The Legacy of a Hero
by Rae-Prite
Summary: "These powers are my gift and my curse. Who am I? No one important. Just the daughter and partner of the greatest hero New York has ever known. Up until three months ago though, I had no idea who my Dad really was. This story isn't a happy tale, but it's mine and it's all I have." OC as Spiderman's daughter. MJ/Peter. Rating for language, hints of adult themes and action sequences.
1. Chapter 1

_Welcome one and all to my first Spiderman story, I'm Rae B-) If you're joining us after reading my current story in the Young Justice universe, let me clarify that this is what happened before that story; the prologue/introduction/beginning if you will ;) ^_^_

_If this is your first time here, then let me fill you in. The following story is my take on how Spiderman's daughter came to be a great hero. This is all my own crazy world, nothing other than the essentials is based on cannon, and you'll notice that most facts about this story will have roots in the movie series with Toby McGuire and Kirsten Dunst. Also to note is this story will tie-in later with the DC universes, including Batman and Young Justice, so there will be elements of both Marvel and DC (any diehard, flame-prone fans of either Marvel or DC should leave now)._

_I think that pretty much does it for what you need to know. Reviews are appreciated, even more than faves and alerts ;) Sit back, relax and enjoy the ride B-)_

**The Legacy of a Hero**

**Chapter One**

"Mom? I'm home!" Heather May Parker called, dropping her book bag onto the dining room table. She absently brushed a lock of auburn hair out of her vision, tucking it behind her ear as her intense blue eyes scanned her notes from class that day.

Heather looked towards the living room with a pensive frown,  
"Mom? Are you here?" The sixteen year old asked loudly, but the apartment remained silent. On a hunch, she toward the fridge in the kitchen and found a note. It was written in blue ink in her mother's swirly cursive.

'_Got called into work, couldn't get out of it. Harry is sleeping over with a friend tonight and Audrey's with Aunt May. I'll be back by nine at the latest – dad's working late tonight. There's money for pizza on the counter. If you need anything, call me. Love you, mom._'

Heather sighed, "of course dad's working late. When is he not?" She muttered, rolling her eyes.

Spying the twenty dollars on the counter, she glanced at her watch. Four-thirty – too early to get dinner, she'd wait until closer to six. That decided, she grabbed a can of soda from the fridge, returned to the table and started her homework.

Later that night, after completing her chores and homework, Heather sat watching TV and munching a slice of pizza. She flipped channels aimlessly before settling on a news cast. Not two minutes in, the anchors seemed to get excited as a news bulletin came into the studio.

"We have breaking news tonight – an apartment building at the corner of south 57th and north 100th is on fire, with ten people trapped inside. We've just received word that Spiderman is on the scene to lend a hand. We go now live to our correspondent, Aimee Trekker, who is on location to cover this story. Aimee?"

Heather sat up, tuning out the blonde reporter out, as her eyes focused on the red and blue suited hero who had just swung into the burning building through a window. A few minutes later, Spiderman jumped back out carrying three people, before returning inside the blazing apartments. The procedure was repeated several times, until it seemed all the people had been safely rescued from the fire.

After conversing with the fire chief for a moment, Spiderman spotted the enthusiastic reporter headed his way, and quickly swung off before he could be questioned about tonight – or more accurately, accused of starting the fire.

Aimee looked frustrated before turning back to the camera, a fake smile plastered over her face, "well, as you can see, Spiderman continues to be a mystery to the people of New York. After twenty-five years of swinging above the city streets, we still wonder: Who _is_ Spiderman? What does he have to hide behind that mask? Is he a hero, or a menace? For channel twelve, I'm Aimee Trekker, back to you in the studio."

Heather rolled her eyes at the overdramatic reporter and switched off the TV. "Wouldn't you like to know Miss Trekker? Wouldn't we all like to know?" She murmured as she left the living room to get ready for bed.

It was ten o'clock and her mother still wasn't home, but that didn't really surprise Heather. These days it was a rare occurrence for the Parker family to all be gathered in the same place for longer than a few hours.

Her father, Peter, was always at work. Her mother Mary Jane – or MJ – was often out doing this or that with her work at the theater, or with her baby sister, Audrey, and great Aunt May. Her twelve year old brother Harry was often too caught up in his own circle of friends to pay much attention to anything else.

_The perfect American family_, Heather thought with a snort. She grabbed her night ware to change in her room, pausing after pulling off her long-sleeved shirt to look at her wrists, as was her habit of late.

Oddly enough, she'd found that a small patch of white raised skin on the underside of either wrist had developed in the last year. It reminded her of skin that had scared over from a burn, but appeared more translucent than that – like silk. She couldn't begin to imagine what it was from, but since it didn't itch or look like any form of skin cancer she'd seen, she hadn't mentioned it to anyone. It was most likely some kind of allergic reaction to the new fabric softener her mom used, nothing serious.

Heather pulled her tank top on, and let her long hair down from its ponytail. She shook out her hair, fluffing it with her fingers as she bent down to pull out a box from under her bed. She flipped the unassuming black lid off the box and pulled out a large scrapbook, blue orbs skimming the block letter stickers she'd put on the front which said, '_With great power, comes great responsibility_'.

It was something her father had always said, and she could remember now the first time she'd asked what it meant. She was six, and she remembered the look that flashed through his eyes. She hadn't known then that it was pain and regret, but she knew that now.

Peter had explained that when you had a special ability or talent that could help people, you should never hold it back from the world and use it for your own selfish gains. If you have the power to help someone, then you should. _"Maybe if everyone did that, the world would be a better place,"_ he had concluded, a faraway look in his blue eyes.

Under the quote from her father were three others, each one under the next, all in block stickers. '_Life is just a mirror – what you see out there, you must first see inside of you_', '_Life is simple: You make a choice and don't look back_' and '_Life is like a novel with the ending ripped out. You have to write your own ending.'_

Heather flipped open the scrapbook, revealing hundreds of clips and photos from newspapers and other sources, all revolving around the masked vigilante Spiderman. The collage started out twenty-five years before when the web-slinger had first appeared, and highlighted his greatest achievements as a hero up until the present day.

At a blank page, Heather used a pen from her desk to scrawl the date and a message across the paper: '_Thirty-two saved from apartment fire. He hasn't lost his touch a bit._'

At times Heather wondered if this habit she had of tracking Spiderman's exploits could be considered stalking or just plain creepy. It probably was in reality, but Spiderman inspired her in ways no one else ever could. There were so many times when she longed to meet the hero, talk with him maybe, to let him know that at least one person in New York still thought he was a hero. She knew most children thought of their parents as their heroes, but that had never been the case for Heather. Now at nearly seventeen, it most certainly wasn't the situation.

Heather put the pen and scrapbook away, replacing the box beneath the bed. She picked up a photo frame from her bedside table and studied it for a moment. The picture was with her dad at the zoo, their last daddy-daughter outing together before work became more important than family. She'd been five; the picture showed that she had lost her two front teeth and she clutched a toy white tiger Peter had bought her just that morning.

Heather shook her head and put the frame down, scrubbing a hand over her face. _It's pointless to think about it. He's got more important things to do than worry about his daughters, son and wife. And I've got better things to do than think about a dad whose only permanent presence in the house stems from photos._ Despite her angry thoughts, she couldn't stop her eyes from stinging.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, she went and turned out all the lights around the apartment, and was about to go to sleep when her cell phone beeped.

It was a text from Rhianna, or Rhi, her best friend. _'Come out 2night? Gona be fun! ;D'_

Heather glanced at the clock. It was eleven. A slow grin spread itself over her face, as she texted back, '_Hell ya. Cya there!'_

Heather changed into faded jeans, black boots and a low cut dark blue shirt. She fluffed her hair up with a brush and grabbed her jacket from the closet. She lined her eyes thickly with makeup and put on her darkest shade of lipstick. The look had the effect of making her appear older. With a mother in show business, she'd learned to wield makeup to her advantage from an early age.

Quickly she closed her door to a crack, then stuffed clothes and old toys beneath her sheets to make it look like she was sleeping, before grabbing her wallet and cell.

The red head climbed out the window to the fire escape, closing it to just a crack so she could open it later without setting off the alarm. As she walked out of an alley and into the night, one thought ran through her mind. _Hope dad works _extra_ late tonight…Preferably on the other side of the city._


	2. Chapter 2

_It's going to be slow going in the beginning, and I apologize for that, but this is actually pretty important later on. Please tell me how you feel about the chapters in a review, feedback helps oh so much B-) Sit back, relax and enjoy the ride…_

**The Legacy of a Hero**

**Chapter Two**

Heather rounded a final corner to see the park where her friends always met when they went 'out'. She could see several shadowy figures horsing around a large oak tree, and smiled before crossing the deserted street.

Even in New York – the city that never slept – there were a few places where the nightlife's long hands just couldn't quite reach, and its streets fell under fitful bouts of slumber during the wee hours of the night; this was one of those places. That was why it was perfect.

Heather reached the tree and cocked her head to see Rhi hanging from a branch by her long legs, blonde ponytail falling limply down along with a baggy blouse that Rhi was desperately trying to hold up. Or down, it was hard to tell.

"What's up girl?" Rhi asked giving a wide, insane grin that only she could pull off.

Heather considered the question for a split second, her eyebrow cocked, "you."

Rhi laughed loudly, but no one worried about being caught. Even if the police did come around, they couldn't arrest them since they weren't hurting anything. Well, except maybe the tree Rhi was hanging from.

Next to Rhi stood a tall, husky boy with dark skin and shortly cropped hair. "How ya doin', HM?" He asked with a smile, one hand on Rhi's lower back to keep her from falling.

"Not bad, Mike, you?" Heather grinned at the nickname she'd gotten back in fifth grade. Few people still used it, but she still liked to hear it every once in a while.

"Oh, you know," Mike gestured vaguely at his topsy-turvy girlfriend and shrugged, a little smile kinking up his mouth. "Been hangin' around," He said, then winked and chuckled.

"Where's Josh?" Heather asked, not seeing the tall, lanky, black-haired boy she called a boyfriend. They'd been going out for two weeks now, but things hadn't exactly been smooth sailing.

Rhi and Mike only smiled, but before Heather could ask, she felt a tingling sensation run up her spine. She twirled around and tackled the shadowy figure that had tried to creep up on her.

The figure grunted as Heather straddled his lap and pinned his bony wrists above his head. "Jesus, Heather! Don't have to go all GI Jane on me!"

"When are you going to learn to stop sneaking up on me?" She asked, kissing his lips briefly, which felt prickly from three days of not shaving.

Josh groaned in disappointment as Heather pulled away. "When you stop sensing a disturbance in the Force," he retorted, his teeth flashing in relief against the dark night around them.

Heather rolled her blue eyes and let her boyfriend up. He pulled her close and kissed her again, his tongue licking her lip, a question in the gesture. She pulled away and hid her annoyance. When was he going to get the hint that she wasn't into that, even if all the other girls in school – her best friend included – were?

"Seriously Heather, how do you do that?" Rhi asked, flipping down from the tree with major assistance from Mike to regain her balance. Obviously, she'd already had a few pre-party cocktails.

"Do what?" The red head asked, shrugging and looking down the road so they couldn't see her eyes.

"You know 'what'! That precognition crap you do!" Rhi retorted, stabbing a finger at her and poking her arm tipsily.

Heather shook her head, keeping her eyes on the street, "you're crazy Rhi. I don't have precognition."

"You have to have _something_!" Rhi went on, "how else do you _always_ know Josh is there?"

Heather flashed a smirk, "Maybe 'cause he's a terrible ninja?"

Josh put a hand to his heart and fell against the tree, "oh baby girl! That hurt! How could you doubt my ninja skills?" He wailed, overdramatically.

Heather only rolled her eyes. "Are we going or staying here all night?" She asked, effectively changing the subject.

"Let's do this," Mike said pulling out his keys. He was the only one in their group that had a car.

Mike scooped Rhi up over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. Rhi grinned at Heather and winked before she pinched her boyfriend's rear. "Whoo!" She cried as Mike ran around in a circle first before depositing her in the passenger side of his beat up Oldsmobile.

Josh grinned and wrapped his arm loosely around Heather's waist, putting his hand in her back pocket and hooking his thumb through her belt loop. She returned the gesture, but only half-heartedly.

Her eyes distractedly scanned the tops of buildings, wondering where a certain arachnid hero was lurking at the moment, half-hoping he'd show up and half-hoping he wouldn't.

She didn't see him anywhere, so she let herself be led to the car and got in, deciding that tonight, for once, she wouldn't worry about _him_.


	3. Chapter 3

_You probably want to throw rotten fruit at me for that last, epically short chapter, but I think this one will make up for it B-) Or at least I hope so. Whether you hate it or love it, please review, they make me smile ^_^ Sit back, relax and enjoy the ride…_

**The Legacy of a Hero**

**Chapter Three**

They got to the club and parked around the corner, the streets jammed with cars, even in this rather rundown section of the city. They got in line, the music inside the building making the concrete beneath their feet throb, and waited almost an hour before they reached the front.

The bouncer, a big guy with a chest the size of Texas, and arms wider than the Brooklyn Bridge eyed them doubtfully. Rhi stepped forward and whispered something in his ear that made his face go red as a traffic light. He swallowed, grunted, checked his list then nodded and opened the door for them.

The loud techno beat washed over them, soaking into their bodies, along with the smell of spilt alcohol, stale cigarette smoke, and sweat from hundreds of hot bodies crushing against each other on the dance floor.

Rhi spotted a booth and pointed it out to Mike, who took the lead. The foursome, with Mike in the front doing most of the grunt work, pushed through the throng of pressing bodies until they reached the booth and collapsed inside.

Immediately, Rhi signaled a waiter and smiled coyly at him, batting her long lashes as the flashing lights sparkled in her green eyes. "Round of beers, tell the bartender, Robbie, that Rhi says hi."

The poor young man walked off with a dazed, goofy grin on his face, barely missing a huge guy with a large bottle of beer. Heather held her breath until he made it to the bar, not wanting to see the poor chump get flattened because he'd been Rhi-zzled.

"You've got to stop doing that, Rhi!" Heather shouted close to her friend's ear, the only way for the blonde to hear her.

"Doing what?" Rhi shouted back, blinking innocently.

"Rhi-zzling guys!" Heather retorted loudly.

Rhi and Heather had been friends since first grade, and one of their favorite pastimes had been watching episodes of The Magic School Bus. When they got older, Rhi had learned to dazzle guys with a bat of an eyelash and a flash of a smile, and Heather had promptly dubbed it 'Getting Rhi-zzled'.

"Hey, it's the only talent I got! You want me to give that up?" Rhi retorted.

"Somehow I doubt that's going to get you a scholarship to NYU," Heather responded drily, which only made Rhi shrug unapologetically.

Just then the drinks came back and she gave the waiter a saucy wink. Mike smiled tolerantly at his girlfriend and put his arm around her, knowing that despite her flirting, she was all his. That was clear from his senior ring on her finger.

The four friends clinked bottles and took sips, with Rhi's being a bit more excessive than necessary. Heather on the other hand, took the smallest sip possible, but made it look like she'd taken more. By the end of the night, she would just be finishing off this beer, while the rest of the group had consumed at least three.

Rhi finished her drink in two more large gulps then merrily pulled a reluctant Mike to the dance floor to grind away. Despite their differences in stature though, somehow tiny Rhi still managed to get him to the middle of the floor. That left Heather and Josh alone in the booth.

Josh nuzzled Heather's neck, moving her hair to try and give her a hickey. She raised her shoulder and moved away uncomfortably. He followed the movement and tried to get closer again.

"Josh, knock it off. You know I'm not into that," Heather said. She was really getting ticked off about this. She'd told him this eighty-three times already. Yes, she'd been counting.

"C'mon, Heather, just a little," Josh purred persuasively into her ear.

"No." Heather replied tersely. She wished that Rhi and Mike would come back already. How long could it possibly take to dirty dance on a hot, crowded floor?

Josh backed off, glaring now. "What is with you? You can be such a prude!"

Heather sent a glower right back at him. "And you can be a total prick!"

Josh gritted his teeth, his lip curling up in a sneer. "At least I've gotten some."

Heather rolled her eyes, taking a sip of beer to quell her rising anger. "You act like that's something to be proud of. Everyone knows that you've gotten some – you slept with practically the whole cheer squad, plus the French club. Tell me," she added, leaning forward to get in his face. "Is it true? What they say about kissing a French girl? Or at least one who speaks the language of love?" She sneered.

"Go to hell, Heather!" Josh snarled and shoved her shoulder back, pushing her away to leave the booth.

Heather watched him leave grimly not caring in the least that she'd probably just got dumped… or maybe she'd dumped him. She hardly ever cared anymore when they walked away – it had happened so many times in the last couple of months that it barely affected her. All the guys in school were exactly the same – they all wanted to get in her pants, and when she denied them, they got mad and walked.

Heather snorted quietly to herself as Josh left the club through a back door. _Another one bites the dust; story of my life._

She sat by herself for a long time it seemed. She sipped her beer; watched the dancers; observed the strange colors of the club lights as they washed across people and walls; and just people watched in general.

People watching always made her wonder what someone else's life was like, whether it was cooler than her own blank existence or just as sucky. What would it be like to trade places with some of these people? Were they just like her? Just trying to get by in life without a clue of what came next? There had to be more to life than that. There just had to.

After what seemed like an eternity, Rhi and Mike came back and sat down, both of them out of breath. Mike signaled the waiter, who brought a second round of beers.

"Where's Josh?" Rhi asked, having missed his absence until she was halfway done with her second beer.

"Not here," Heather replied shortly, her good mood also now absent.

"What happened?" Mike asked, looking concerned in that big brother way he had about him.

"What do you think?" Heather stared at the dance floor emotionlessly.

"Aw Heather, again? Honey, I think it's time to either put out or admit your gay," Rhi told her bluntly, which surprisingly had nothing to do with the alcohol in her system. She'd been saying almost the same thing for months, every time Heather broke up with someone new.

"I am not a lesbian, Rhi. You know that." Heather smirked just slightly, "wouldn't I have hit on you by now if I was? After all, you are the most smokin' hot chick in the city."

Rhi examined her nails casually, like she wasn't trying to hide a grin, "I know."

Mike ignored his girlfriend and leaned forward. "Seriously, Heather, you have to stop doing this to yourself. It can't be healthy for you to keep hooking up with jerks and getting your heart broken over and over."

Heather glanced at Mike's sincere face then looked away. "Yeah, I know that. How about when you find a half decent guy in this city that's not trying to devirginize me, gimme a call 'kay?"

Mike smiled, and Rhi rubbed Heather's arm reassuringly. "Of course, HM! We'll find someone worthy of your goddess status!" She grinned and covered a huge yawn. It didn't take much to take Rhi out of commission.

"Thanks guys," Heather told them sincerely. She really did have good friends. She checked her phone, and noted the time. "Hey, I think I wanna head home. Sorry to break up the party so early, but I have a Chem test tomorrow."

"Hey, it's cool, we understand," Mike said. Rhi gave a giant yawn, but nodded. Mike chuckled, "besides, I need to get sleeping beauty here home."

Mike and Heather held Rhi up between them as they left the club. They put her in the passenger seat of the Oldsmobile, and then drove away towards the alley behind Heather's apartment.

The ride was silent, with the exception of Rhi's soft snoring as she laid against the door, her face smashed into the window. Heather hoped her face didn't freeze like that. It'd look pretty terrible come picture day.

Mike stopped in front of the alleyway to let Heather out. "Thanks Mike – I'll see you guys tomorrow."

"Sure Heather, and hey," he paused until she looked back at him halfway out of the car. "Don't worry about Josh. He was a jerk. You deserve better."

Heather smiled warmly, "thanks, Mike." She got of the car and stepped back, waving as the Oldsmobile disappeared around the corner. Once alone, her shoulders slumped as she rubbed her forehead tiredly. It had been a long night.

Not wanting to stay on the dark street, she went into the alley and climbed up the fire escape to her room. She crept in, and slid the window closed. She changed quickly into her pjs and decided she was thirsty for water after all that bitter beer.

Walking towards the kitchen, she stopped at the corner of the hallway when she saw her mother sitting at the dining room table, sipping from a coffee mug. Without thinking about it, she backed up behind the wall, and peered around the corner, watching MJ. Her mother was just sitting there, sipping her drink and glancing at the window every few seconds.

_What's she doing_? Heather wondered. _She looks like she's waiting for someone…_ No sooner had she thought it, that a dark shadow passed over the window and there was a slight tap on the glass pane.

MJ stood up and opened the window, taking a few steps back as a backlit figure stepped into the kitchen. The figure was clearly a man, taller than her mom by a few inches, and muscular in a lean way.

"You're late. You said you'd be back by two a.m., but it's three." MJ scolded the mysterious figure softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm sorry. There was a carjacking a few blocks from Times Square. I couldn't ignore the situation," the figure said, also in a hushed like tone.

His voice was oddly muffled, and that combined with the soft tone, it made his voice hard to identify. And yet, there was something familiar about it… something Heather couldn't put her finger on.

MJ sighed, "I know. It's just… you've been gone more and more often lately, and it's affecting the kids. You missed Harry's soccer game last week. Audrey was in her junior ballet recital just yesterday night. Heather is going to be a senior next semester, and you weren't there when she played the lead in _Grease_. Do you even remember what day it is, exactly three months from now?"

The figure rubbed his neck and turned away, seemingly embarrassed. Heather couldn't help but wonder why. Why was her mom even talking to this weird guy, who'd climbed in through their window in the middle of the night, about her life and her brother's?

"You don't remember, do you?" MJ demanded, but it sounded more like a statement than a question.

"Uh… I know it's important," the figure said weakly.

"It's Heather's seventeenth birthday!" MJ nearly shouted, but restrained herself just in time. Her body language showed just how angry she was without using words.

The figure was silent except for a low sigh. He sat down at the kitchen/dining room table and laced his fingers over his neck, putting his elbows on his knees.

It was at that moment that Heather realized the person in their apartment was Spiderman himself. The light from the window now clearly highlighted his red and blue costume with the black webbing design. She didn't have enough time to think about that before Spiderman spoke again. "I'm sorry, MJ. I know I've been gone, but I can't –"

"Can't turn your back on people who need help," MJ finished for him, sitting down beside the masked man. She tilted his face up and stared at his mask. "I know. But have you ever considered that maybe your daughters and son and wife need you just as much, or more, than the rest of the city?" The figure looked away, and pulled off his mask, revealing his face for the first time.

_Oh. My. God!_ Heather thought, her breath catching in her throat. _Spiderman is, is… my father?_


	4. Chapter 4

_Well, after that not-so-earth-shattering cliffhanger last chapter, I hope you enjoy this a little more. Things won't really start getting interesting until chapter five/sixish, so be a little patient and bear with me. You might even like it when we get there ;) B-) Anyway, as always, sit back, relax and enjoy the ride…_

**The Legacy of a Hero**

**Chapter Four**

"Every day of my life," Peter Parker said, quietly answering his wife's question. "I hate doing this to you – to the kids, but I can't give it up. The city needs a hero. They need me."

MJ sighed and looked away, "So do we, Tiger. So do we…" She cleared her throat after a moment and looked at Peter expectantly. "You better make sure though that nothing – and I mean nothing – makes you miss Heather's birthday. Not even if another 9/11 happens, I want you here with us. She's seen enough disappointment as it is with you gone so much. And Peter, I hate to admit it, but she's growing up. She won't be here with us forever – don't let her slip through your fingers."

Peter smiled sadly and gave his wife a light kiss. "I won't I promise. I love you," he murmured.

MJ smiled back. "I love you too… always will. Come on. Let's get some sleep."

Heart pounding, Heather backed up quickly into her room and shut the door silently, thanking any higher power that the hinges didn't creak. She backed up even more and sat on the bed, breathing deeply as she tried to process what had just happened.

_This is impossible! _Her mind screamed. Peter Parker wasn't a super hero – he wasn't a super _anything_. He was a news photographer and an assistant professor at Empire University. Spiderman was totally different than her father. Spiderman put his life in danger every day to save people; he jumped in burning buildings, stopped carjackings, and caught thugs, thieves, rapists and murderers.

He'd even saved Heather herself once.

She'd been on a school field trip, heading home on the bus after a day at the city zoo. Suddenly a Hobgoblin bomb had exploded in front of the bus on a bridge. The bus driver had swerved to avoid it, spinning the vehicle until it was hanging a little less than half way off the edge, the suspension cables barely keeping it in place.

Heather had been ten and she remembered clearly the chaos of it all – fire burning on the asphalt and quickly spreading to the tires, acrid smoke filling the bus, kids screaming and coughing, the driver trying to keep them all calm as car drivers fled their vehicles and ran away. Above them, through the window, Heather could see Spiderman and the Hobgoblin fighting on top of the suspension bridge, yelling incoherently at each other.

It all seemed to go on for an eternity as the bus wobbled half on, half off the bridge, tipping back and forth with every movement from the frightened children within like a seesaw.

Finally, Hobgoblin got in a good punch and fled while Spiderman had been dazed. With the villain gone, the superhero had swung down to the school bus, using his webbing to try and better anchor the back of the vehicle. The front axle was still hanging off, so he quickly and decisively got everyone off the bus until only Heather had been left.

She remembered she'd been sitting in the front, behind the driver to avoid the bullies in her class. As everyone else had fled, Heather had hunkered down in her seat, terrified to move even an inch. Spiderman climbed back into the bus to retrieve her, his costume darkened from the smoke of the growing fire. In the distance, she could faintly hear the sirens of fire trucks and police, but everything seemed so surreal, she'd wondered if she was just imagining the sounds.

"Come on sweetie, you're the last one," Spiderman had entreated her from a few rows away, holding out a gloved hand. "You can do it. Just stand up slowly, walk towards me and take my hand."

Heather frightfully shook her head, twin braids flipping around her sweat and dirt streaked face. "I – I can't!" she'd stuttered.

"Yes you can, just focus on me," Spiderman encouraged her in a calm tone. "We're getting out of this together. We're going to get you home to your family, but first you have to stand up and take my hand."

Hesitantly and ever so slowly, Heather uncurled her body and put her sneakers down on the floor of the bus, eyes locked on the hero's red mask. Still moving slowly, she put one hand on the back of the bench seat and stood, whimpering in fright as the bus wobbled again.

Her first mistake was looking behind her, out the shattered front window and seeing nothing but the blue sky and the river. Shuddering and clutching the seat, she took a tentative step out into the isle, then another. Four steps later, she was completely in the isle, backpack slung across her shoulders.

"That's it! You're doing great, just keep coming," Spiderman said, voice positive and calm.

Her second mistake was pausing and looking back over her shoulder at the sky – the sky that looked so very big and so very empty. "Spiderman, I can't do it!" she cried, fresh tears flowing down her cheeks.

"Yes you can! Look at me sweetieand only me," He implored, stretching out his hand a little farther.

She shook her head, grasped one of the support bars tightly, closing her eyes tight. She kept furiously wishing that this was just a nightmare she could wake up from. If only she could pinch herself and awake in her warm bed, everything would be all right!

"Don't quit on me now," Spiderman pleaded. "Can you tell me your name?"

Heather opened her eyes a little and licked her cut lip, tasting dried blood. "He – Heather. I'm Heather."

"Okay, Heather, listen carefully. I'm going to take one step forward, and I want you to do the same. Then I'll go and then you go until we meet in the middle. Then we're both getting out of here, okay? Can you do that for me, Heather? Can you be brave?" She couldn't be sure, but she thought he was smiling a little beneath his mask – it seemed that way by the stretch of the fabric.

She nodded ever so slightly, swallowing and trying to keep the wobble out of her voice. "Okay."

Spiderman cautiously slid one foot forward, and beckoned at Heather who obligingly advanced a pace. He then quickly moved ahead and, trusting herself a bit more, Heather moved without being prompted. The process was repeated until finally she slid forward one more pace into reach.

Spiderman swiftly picked her up and turned, about to exit the bus, when his keen spider senses kicked in and he turned his head the opposite direction. Flying towards the bus was the Hobgoblin, apparently not done with his game. Laughing madly, he pulled out a fresh pumpkin bomb and threw it at the bridge – specifically the portion that was just beneath the front of the school bus.

Things seemed to go in super slow motion after that. The bomb had exploded. The bus tipped forward and fell. Heather had screamed. Spiderman ran forward and jumped out the emergency back door, flying through thin air. Then suddenly, quite suddenly, they weren't flying or falling, but merely hanging from a strong web line beneath the bridge. Beneath them the school bus splashed into the river and slowly sunk into its murky depths.

For a few seconds, Heather greedily gulped in air to quell her racing heart, clinging desperately to her savior. Spiderman gave her a quick squeeze. "It's all right now, Heather. You're safe."

She closed her eyes gratefully as the words sunk in. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Don't worry Heather everything's going to be fine," He said soothingly, slowly pulling them upwards. He shot off another line and swung them up and back onto the bridge.

Once back on solid ground, Heather very reluctantly released the superhero's neck. For a moment they merely gazed at each other, she in awe while his expression remained in obscurity. Blinking back tears of relief she threw her arms around his waist and gave him a wobbly smile. "Thank you Spiderman. You saved my life."

Spiderman returned the hug gently, "Just doing my job, short stuff."

"I don't care what anyone says," Heather told him solemnly, staring intently at his reflective eyepieces. "I'll never see you as anything but what you really are – a hero. I promise, Spiderman, you'll always be a hero to me."

Spiderman seemed at a loss of words for a moment. Softly he said, "Thank you, Heather. That… that means a lot." He looked up, spotting a couple of police officers and paramedics heading towards them, as well as a handful of reporters. Turning back to the young girl, he gave her shoulder one more squeeze. "I have to go now. Be good for your parents – they must be real proud of you… I know I am."

And just like that, he swung away and was gone. After that day, Heather had kept her promise – Spiderman was a hero in her eyes, and always would be. That was when she'd started the scrapbook, chronicling the hero's career in New York from his first day to the present and every day in between.

Now, nearly eight years later, she sat in her dark room with what she'd just witnessed running through her head on a permanent loop. She wondered if it was fake after all, simply an act. Had the last twenty plus years been a performance? A hoax? All the supposed lives Spiderman had saved, all the battles he'd won against crazed super villains who'd threaten the city – was it even true? Had the entire city been duped?

Heather ran a hand through her hair, reeling from the implications. It wasn't possible. Her father _couldn't_ really be Spiderman, could he? She remembered the way Spiderman had held her as they dangled in the air, the way he'd hugged her and talked to her… it didn't add up. Those feelings were different when she compared them to things her father had done for her. She could recall hugs with her father; they were brief and while he meant well, they'd felt stiff. Her dad didn't often show a lot of outward affection, and when they talked his mind always seemed elsewhere.

She shook her head and closed her eyes. _No, it wasn't real. It was some kind of hallucination… someone must have spiked my beer, probably Josh. Or maybe I'm already asleep and I'm dreaming. Either way, none of it was real. There's no way._

She took a deep, calming breath. _I'm going to go to sleep now, and tomorrow morning when I wake up, I'll probably be sick from whatever Josh drugged me with and that will be my proof. By tomorrow, all of this will be nothing more than a horrible nightmare my brain thought up._

Heather pulled down the covers, cleared away the excess pillows she'd used in her deception and climbed beneath the sheets. She closed her eyes, already feeling sleep creeping in at the corners of her consciousness. However, sleep couldn't come quick enough to squelch one last disturbing thought.

_If I'm wrong and this isn't a dream, then what the hell am I supposed to do now?_


	5. Chapter 5

_So, I hope you liked that last chapter a little better than chapter three. Not much really happened, but you at least get to understand what's going on between Heather and Peter. This chapter and the next is when things will really start to take off, so sit back, relax and enjoy the ride B-)_

**The Legacy of a Hero**

**Chapter Five**

The next morning, Heather awoke to the bright sun streaming in through her window. She blinked as her eyes adjusted, and looked at the clock. _Shoot, I've got twenty minutes. I must've overslept… Why didn't I set my alarm?_

Then she remembered everything that had happened last night, and she froze, a pit forming in her stomach. She sat up and looked around her room, noting the clothes she'd worn to the club peeking out from the hamper. So that part was real. But the rest…?

She shook her head. _It was a dream – whatever the hell that was when I got home, it must have been a dream! Josh just spiked my drink that's all. _She frowned irritably, _I'll kick his ass later, or maybe I'll take Mike up on his offer – he's wanted to beat up one of my ex's for a while now. Ugh, doesn't matter, I don't have time to worry about it! Right now, I've got to get to school._

That decided Heather took a quick shower to erase any lingering scents from the night club. She felt so much better afterwards, to the point where she'd convinced herself it _had_ just been a hallucination of some kind. Getting dressed, she resolved that she'd personally make sure Josh Roker lost his ability to reproduce – permanently. She smiled grimly while pulling her hair into a ponytail. _Josh is _so_ going to regret messing with me._

Slinging her messenger bag across her shoulders, she checked that she had all her books, homework, wallet and other essentials before leaving her room. In the kitchen, she found her mom at the stove cooking something that smelled like French toast. Her little brother Harry sat at the table, doing last minute homework, a soccer ball sitting by his bag. Heather realized that someone must have dropped Harry off very early this morning, for him to already be dressed and ready for school after the sleepover yesterday. She figured that her sister was still at her Aunt's house.

"Morning," Heather said. She went to the fridge and looked around for something to drink, finally settling on a glass of orange juice.

MJ glanced up from the stove and smiled at her daughter. "Good morning, sweetheart. Are you hungry? I can make you some too," she gestured at the French toast that was sizzling in the frying pan.

Heather shook her head. "Nah, I'll just have a Poptart. I'm running a little behind today." She pulled a glass from the cabinet and poured her drink, then grabbed the box of pastries and popped two into the toaster.

MJ looked at the clock and frowned. "You are a bit late. Are you feeling okay? You slept in more than usual."

"I feel fine," Heather responded automatically, a knee-jerker reaction. Her back was turned toward her mom as she waited for her breakfast to pop up. "I think I drank too much soda last night or something. I couldn't fall asleep for a while. I guess my body was just making up for it this morning."

MJ paused for half a second as she slid the new piece of toast onto the stack. She placed the plate on the table thoughtfully. Without looking up from his math homework Harry snagged a piece with his fork, digging in. "Harry," MJ scolded, momentarily distracted. "For goodness sake, you could at least wait until I got a slice."

Harry frowned around a mouthful of toast and swallowed. "Sorry," he murmured. "I'm hungry."

"You're not the only one," MJ teased him, ruffling his dark brown hair.

Heather smiled at her mom and brother. It was times like these that she really enjoyed, when no one was rushing off to do this or that. It was peaceful, quiet… just nice.

Her Poptarts jumped from the toaster, shattering the moment. She quickly snagged them out with a paper towel. Downing her drink, she put her glass in the sink and turned towards the door.

"You're leaving already?" MJ asked, appearing a little bemused.

"Yeah I gotta go or I'll miss the train. I'll see you guys later," Heather kissed her mom quickly and tweaked her little brother's ear.

"Don't forget my soccer game is today!" Harry called after her, even while rubbing his ear in annoyance.

"I won't, I promise. I'll be there Harry. You can count on it!" She threw a smile over her shoulder before running out the door.

SMxSGxSM

_School_, Heather thought later that day, _is a polite word for lawful torture._ The day had started horribly – she'd been late to her first class and was consequently scolded by her teacher in front of everyone – embarrassing much? From there, things had continued to spiral downward.

Her AP physics teacher, who wasn't fond of her anyway despite her stellar grades, had asked her to solve the equation on the board, then growled and complained that she was taking too long. She had replied in a very vexed tone that the equation was the length of the entire whiteboard and half its width, so _of course_ she was taking a while. That had resulted in several credit points being taken off her homework, something that she found completely unfair. Unfortunately at her school, the AP teachers could do pretty much anything they pleased, there was no arguing it.

As if that wasn't enough, she'd stepped in gum hurrying to her AP English class – ruining her favorite ballet flats.

Her teacher in that class, whom she normally liked a lot, decided that Heather needed to read Act Two, Scene Two (aka the balcony scene) of _Romeo and Juliet_ with Mark Harrods. Mark, while nice enough, was president of the chess club and a frequent sufferer of nose bleeds when he got nervous. Sure enough, halfway through, Mark's nose started to paint his pale face an interesting shade of red, and it seemed no amount of tissues would help it.

One of the snobbiest girls in school and Heather's long-standing enemy, Melissa Hart, called from the back of the class, "But soft! What blood through yonder geek breaks? It is Harrods and Heather is his loving nurse!"

Heather wasn't sure which would have been better; to be able to crawl under her desk and disappear, or to deck Melissa in the mouth. As it was, she continued reading her lines and pretended that she couldn't hear the laughs and cat calls thrown at her from all sides. For Batman's sake, would Mark's nose _never_ stop bleeding? Perhaps if he lost enough blood, he'd faint and she could leave. No such luck.

When Heather finally made it to lunch, she was raring and willing to murder Josh on the spot for his little 'prank' last night.

She got her lunch and spotted Rhi waving frantically from their usual table. Mike was next to her, looking amused at her enthusiasm, given Heather always knew exactly where they'd be at lunch.

Heather plopped the tray down with a 'thud' and sat across from them. "Hi," the ginger said dully, glancing around the cafeteria. She was searching for Josh's dark head and listening for his obnoxious laugh.

"Hey girly!" Rhi said, grinning chirpily. Obviously, the blonde girl had taken precautions last night to avoid a hangover – either that or she'd taken some pretty heavy duty painkillers that morning. At any rate, she seemed as perky as ever.

Mike smiled, mellow as ever, "Sup, Heather?"

"Other than a growing desire to beat the crap out of Josh and having the worst morning ever, I'm great," Heather popped the top of her soda and took a long swig, savoring the caffeine and sugar.

"What did Josh do? I mean other than dumping you last night?" Rhi asked her brow crinkling.

"I think he slipped something slow acting into my drink last night. I had the weirdest hallucination when I got home – it freaked me out to no end," she explained, not going into details. It was way too weird to even think of, let alone talk about. Heather again scanned the room, her eyes and other senses suddenly picking up the weirdest details.

Everything seemed to suddenly be going in slow motion. She could see someone across the room shooting a spit wad, two girls were passing each other diet pills three tables away, one of the jock was about to trip one of the mathletes near the trash bins – on and on it went. What was wrong with her? She put a hand to her temple, closing her eyes at the painful sensory overload – maybe that drug wasn't completely out of her system, or maybe the school's meatloaf was made with magic mushrooms after all.

Suddenly, she felt rather than saw Josh coming up behind her, his arm wrapped around the waist of Mellissa Hart.

_Please tell me I'm imagining that,_ Heather thought as the base of her skull continued to tingle incessantly.

"Oh hell no," Rhi snarled, her eyes narrowing at Josh's approach.

Mike, too, looked a bit disgusted. "That boy just leaped from slightly pitiful to ridiculously pathetic. Hart's been ridden more times than a subway!"

"Just how he likes them," Heather muttered before turning to look for herself, scowling deeply.

Josh saw her and sent a smug smirk, like he actually thought he'd found the next step up on the social ladder. Heather had to admit that while Melissa was very popular (cheerleader, AP student, honor roll, home coming queen and prospective prom queen) it wasn't due to her personality.

The girl was smart, everyone knew that. However, rather than being simply textbook smart, she also was a devious, backstabbing, social-ladder-climbing smart. Heather privately wondered if perhaps Melissa hadn't simply bribed and blackmailed the teachers into giving the charmless socialite high grades so she'd have one more thing over everyone else – it wouldn't have surprised Heather in the least.

Heather stood as Josh and Melissa approached, her fists clenching tightly when Melissa pointedly draped herself on Josh and nibbled his ear.

"Do you mind? Some of us are trying to eat," Heather spat.

"So am I," Melissa purred, giving Josh's ear a small lick. "Ooh, and my, doesn't he taste yummy! Of course, you wouldn't know…" she gave Heather an infuriating look of pity.

"No. I wouldn't," Heather said coolly, "then again, I wouldn't want to. Do you know how many other tongues have tasted Josh before? It would be like licking a toilet. Naturally, that wouldn't bother _you_." She smirked as Melissa pressed her glossy lips into a thin line, nostrils flaring unflatteringly.

"Now, now girls," Josh said, pulling Melissa closer while his eyes stayed fixed on Heather. "There's no need to fight over me."

Heather rolled her eyes and snorted. "Oh please. If there's going to be a fight, it's going to end with you screaming like a little girl, bleeding on the ground while I laugh!"

Josh sneered. "You couldn't hurt a fly, Heather. You're a pathetic prude who wouldn't put out. Then when I decide to move on, suddenly no one can have me but you."

By now, most of the cafeteria had stopped what they were doing to watch the readily escalating, in both viciousness and volume, fight. A handful of freshman near the back of the room looked at each other and simultaneously got up, heading out the nearest door to find a teacher. Everyone could see this showdown was getting ugly fast.

Heather gritted her teeth, fighting an ever growing urge to punch Josh's lights out. "And you're a ladder-climbing pervert who won't take no for an answer! As if trying to get into my pants last night wasn't enough for your twisted mind, you decided to drug me! I should sue you, you sick jerk."

Josh let go of Melissa and grabbed one of Heather's forearms tightly. Oddly enough, Heather hardly felt any pain, the contact just made her angrier. "Shut your mouth, Heather! Just because you're a scared little virgin doesn't mean you can run and cry 'rape' every time a guy even glances in your direction. I didn't drug you, okay? Get the hell over it."

Before she even knew what was happening, Heather had cocked back her fist and smashed it into Josh's jaw. He staggered back, releasing her arm as he clutched his face. _Whoa! Where did that come from? I don't know how to throw a punch._

"You bitch!" he screamed, coming back at her after seeing the blood on his hands.

Heather would never be able to quite explain what happened next. She dodged Josh's first two swings, coming back up from the last punch with a sharp blow of her own to his stomach. He gasped as the air was driven from his body, and Heather seized the moment to spin a roundhouse kick at his side. He gave a pain filled choke.

Josh recovered his wits quickly and stepped forward to try and grab her. Heather rolled between his long legs, coming back up to drive an elbow into his backside. Howling in pain, Josh fell to his knees, clutching a spot where one of his kidneys would be.

This was about the time that two teachers raced in and Heather's mind seemed to catch up with what had just happened. Staring in horror at Josh, her eyes then flicked around at the other students who stared dumbfounded at her. Here she was, Heather the honor roll, loser geek, who'd just laid Josh Roker out without breaking a sweat.

Melissa stared at her in horror. "You're a freak, Parker!" she cried, running to kneel next to Josh as he moaned on the linoleum.

Heather's gaze flicked to Rhi and Mike, who both looked confused and stunned. Oh god, even her best friends thought she was nuts. It was all too much – she just couldn't take it. Her senses were on overload and her fight or flight was kicking in.

_I've already fought, so what's left? Oh right…_ Hardly thinking, she grabbed her bag, which had fallen to the ground, turned and ran as hard and fast as she could from the cafeteria. She ignored the shouts behind her, the hands that tried to grab her, and raced outside the school. Her messenger bag slapped against her thigh, but it hardly slowed her down as she dodged students and faculty members.

Once outside, she raced for the other side of the road, paying no heed to the insistent honks around her, dodging cars like Frogger, the old video game she and her dad used to play at the diner on 7th. She plunged into an alley and kept running.

She didn't stop for another fifteen blocks where she suddenly collapsed against a wall, exhausted and gasping, her body shaking. The logical part of her brain that was still sane said she shouldn't have been able to run that far – she'd always been thin and lanky, a stellar runner and a champion at marathons, but what just happened wasn't possible.

She'd tried out for various sports teams over the years, but nothing stuck for long except running. For awhile in grade school she'd found a niche in gymnastics, as she was quite flexible, but she quit when she was ten. She'd instead focused on her studies, and left running for charity races and the early mornings on weekends.

So why was she suddenly able to run so far for so long? Her oxygen debt should've been through the roof five blocks ago. Yet even as she leaned against the cool bricks, she felt her heart rate decreasing, her breathing slowing to normal, her hands steadying on their own.

"This isn't possible," she muttered. "What's happening to me? First the fight, now this?"

She sighed and put her head in her hands, then paused. Why were her fingers sticking to her hair? She pulled them back slowly, staring at her finger pads. What were those hairs? They hadn't been there before. She sure didn't remember seeing those this morning.

Out of curiosity, she pulled back the sleeves of her shirt to look at the strange whitish patches that had appeared on her arms months ago. Were they bigger, or was that just her hyperactive brain exaggerating details again?

This was all too much. She needed space. Needed time to think! With that in mind, she left the alley she'd stopped in and hailed a cab. She couldn't go back to school, not after what had happened, and she couldn't go home yet – her mom would know something was up. That is _if_ the school hadn't called her yet.

With only one thought in mind, the idea of time to think and not worry anymore, she gave the driver a familiar address and settled back in the cracked vinyl seat. Closing her eyes she sighed. She was almost afraid to ask, but, _what _else_ could go wrong today?_


	6. Chapter 6

_Sorry this update has been so long in coming – things have been really busy in my life. A last minute trip for work, a vacation happening not too long from now, and I'll be back on campus at the end of August – so much to do, so little time, you know? Actually, the majority of this chapter was written while I was on said trip for work, so maybe we should all be greatful for it… maybe ;) :P Seriously though, I have no clue what happened to the summer, but I sure as heck couldn't have been awake for all of it, otherwise it would still be June and not almost August! xD Anyone else feel like that? Sheesh… Well, anyway, on with the chapter B-) Enjoy guys._

**The Legacy of a Hero**

**Chapter Six**

The bell over the door chimed cheerily as Heather walked into the cool air conditioning. Looking around, she couldn't help smiling a little. The place was exactly the same as when she'd last seen it. Same décor, same stained black and white tiled floor, same patrons and the same staff. It was nice to know some things never really changed, particularly when everything else in her life had been in such a flux.

A passing waitress in a rumpled uniform and brown hair piled messily on her head glanced at Heather over a loaded tray. "It'll be a few minutes before I can get you a table, you might want to sit at the counter hun," she said, raising a penciled in eyebrow.

Heather nodded. "That's fine, thanks."

The waitress 'hmmed' and moved on, putting down plates with hardly any pause between tables. _Either she knows her orders well, or she just really doesn't want to talk with her customer's right now… maybe she's about to go on break_, the red head thought as she closed the door behind her.

Heather took a seat on a vinyl stool. She took another look around the old diner, recalling the first time she'd come to this place. It was near her dad's old neighborhood, not far from her Great Aunt May's house. She'd been twelve and Peter had managed to snag an entire afternoon off from work so they could spend time together. He'd showed her around the community and talked about growing up in the neighborhood. Sometime after lunch, there'd been a carjacking or a robbery or something like that, and his boss Mr. Jameson had demanded he get to the scene for photos. Peter had claimed it wouldn't take long, so he left her there at the diner to hang out until he got back. Needless to say it took a lot longer than either of them realized, and it was almost dark when he returned.

Heather didn't hold it against him though, she couldn't. Not when, in the end, she'd found a place she could always escape to when needed. This diner was a relic of a time long past, a time she herself had never known, but it was one she could take comfort in. After all, what better way to escape the present, or even the future, than to journey to the past, especially one that wasn't your own?

"Can I get you something, honey?" An older, plump woman behind the counter asked, adjusting the glasses perched on her nose. Her name badge read 'Madge'.

Madge seemed to fit right into the fifties-style restaurant – with her poodle skirt and collared shirt uniform, curled silver hair and half-moon glasses, it was like Heather had left the twenty-first century behind and gone back to nineteen-fifty-six.

"A slice of apple pie," Heather replied, after a moment's hesitation. "Oh, and I'd like a cup of coffee. Straight black please, no creamer or milk."

Madge turned and grabbed a plate from beneath the counter along with a knife, heading towards a covered display holding the requested treat. "You want some ice cream with that, honey?"

Heather nodded. "Yes, please."

"Comin' right up," was the answer.

Within moments, Heather was biting into a warm slice of pie, baked earlier that morning. It wasn't the same as her Aunt's, or her mother's, but for now it was good enough. As she chewed, she considered carefully everything weird that had happened to her recently, not just from the past couple of hours.

When Heather calmly thought it over, with a rational and open mind, suddenly a lot of things started to click into place. She realized that things had been off for a long time now, which probably explained her current status at a nine point eight on the weirdness scale. Why she hadn't seen this before, she'd probably never know.

Heather had never quite fit in with the other kids. She was smaller, more agile, faster and more flexible. This was good to begin with in elementary school. She was the best climber of her classmates, the fastest runner, and this made her acceptable for the most part. Then middle school came, and things changed. Suddenly she was taller than all the other girls, and a lot of the boys. Where she was once just slender, her body was now absurdly thin, with pointy elbows and knees, and longer limbs that she'd never been sure what to do with.

It was an awkward time for her. Although she'd had Rhianna for support, for the most part she'd retreated into a shell, taking refuge in books and studies to avoid stressful social settings. And there she'd stayed, in that safe little shell of exams and AP classes. When high school came, she managed to come out a little bit by joining the track team, gaining some much needed curves on her skinny frame, and attending a few parties with Rhi. It was at one such party that they'd met Mike, making their duo a trio.

Heather couldn't quite recall when Rhianna had started to make enough social connections – particularly with her older sister's friends, college-age teens who didn't mind high school kids too much – that the blonde could get the three of them into clubs and bars. Suddenly though, Heather was going out several nights a week until wee hours of the morning, drinking and dancing with her two best friends.

Of course, some of her shell had still remained – she never drank a lot while out with Rhi and Mike, and she hardly danced unless she was dating an overzealous boyfriend.

That was another thing, dating. Over the last year and a half, she'd dated more boys than she could necessarily keep track of. This was in part because of her friendship with Rhianna – an incurable flirt with a soft spot for playing cupid – and partly for filing out enough to be worth a boy's attention, though she'd had a little help (thank god for padded bras and curvy jeans). None of the relationships had lasted long, and though there had been a few good ones among the many bad choices, she just couldn't find a boy to stick with like Rhi had with Mike.

All of that aside, she'd been different on the inside still as well. Around sophomore year, she'd gained an uncanny ability to know when something was about to hit her, whiz past her, or just that something big was about to happen near her. Rhianna had been kidding when she'd called it precognition, but as near as Heather could figure, that wasn't far from the truth – whatever the truth was.

Heather played with her spoon, lost in thought. After a moment though, something seemed… amiss. Like, for example, how she couldn't seem to put said spoon down. Holding up the utensil, she observed with growing uneasiness that it was _sticking_ to her hand, but not in the usual hundreds-of-people-have-used-this-before-me kind of way that was so common in diners. No it was actually stuck to her hand, like the appendage was made of duct tape or something.

Trying to be subtle – she didn't want to attract any more attention today than was absolutely necessary – she pulled at the spoon with her other hand. After a bit of wrangling, she finally managed to pull the spoon free. Laying it down on the counter, she took a closer look at her hands. In the alleyway, she'd assumed she'd been hallucinating or still high on adrenalin after seeing tiny sharp hairs sprouting from her hands. Now, she knew that was not the case, that her fingers and palms were indeed covered in tiny hairs no longer than a half centimeter. Overall, they were miniscule, hardly noticeable, except that they made eating dessert more than a little tricky.

Groaning softly, Heather dropped her head into her hands, resting her elbows on the chrome countertop. _What next? X-ray vision?_

That thought jolted her to an astonishing realization and she sat up, staring at her reflection in the Coke-a-Cola mirror above the pickup window. _Wait… Last night when I came in, I saw…_

She blinked at her reflection, brow folding in confusion. _No. That was just a dream – it had to have been a dream. Unless…_ Heather looked down at her arms, pulling back the sleeves to look once more at the strange white patches on her wrists. The skin cancer that wasn't skin cancer – what if it was actually some kind of…?

_It couldn't be… Nah, I've got to be going crazy. There's no way! _Still, Heather found herself standing, grabbing a ten from her wallet and placing it on the counter, then heading for the door. The cheerful little bell rung once more, before the sound was overtaken by the city traffic outside. Her feet guided her across the street and into another alleyway without any conscious decision on her part, like they suddenly possessed a mind of their own.

Looking around, Heather hopped on top of an overturned garbage can and jumped, grabbing the bottom of a fire escape ladder to pull it down. She climbed it swiftly, and then took the staircase up to the roof of the four floored apartment building.

At the top, she again looked around, like there might be a camera hidden behind an air vent. She couldn't help feeling paranoid. What she was about to do was not only dangerous it was downright stupid; just plain _crazy_ that's what this was.

Heather pulled her messenger bag off and laid it down on the tarmac. Not knowing how else to begin, she quickly started using the stretching techniques she'd learned as a gymnast, plus the ones she used before meets for the track team. Once she felt sufficiently warmed up and loose, she tried a simple cartwheel across the roof, remembering to put her legs together at the end.

_Not bad,_ she mused. _I didn't even wobble at the end like I thought I might. It's been so long since I practiced a routine. Let's try something more challenging…_ Frowning in determination, she attempted a double back flip. She nailed it, feeling like she had hardly put in any effort at all.

Heather looked down at her arms contemplatively. _If what I saw last night was real, then maybe…_ she didn't finish the thought.

Looking up, she held her right arm up and aimed it at the door to the stairwell. Lining up the shot carefully, she mimicked a pose she had seen so many times in her life she could do it in her sleep. Folding her two middle fingers in, she made the sign language symbol for "I love you" before tucking down her thumb as well. She cocked her head, squinting slightly and tipped down her wrist.

The result was instantaneous. Sleek, silky thread shot from her arm and hit the old door with a dull 'thud', expanding out upon impact into a spider web design.

Heather's blue eyes widened in shock, taking in the thin rope, her arm and the door in several quick, repeated glances. "Holy Batman," she exclaimed hoarsely.

Giving her arm a quick jerk released the spider web filament, letting it float gently to the ground, rustling in the early spring breeze. She took a step back in surprise before her knees gave out on her and she sat heavily on the roof. Gripping her head she squeezed her eyes shut, shaking slightly. "This can't be happening, it's not possible," she muttered. "My dad can't be… I mean, he's not – ugh!" Jumping to her feet, she paced around agitatedly.

_Think, Heather, think! How would this be possible? You're one of the leading, unofficial experts on all things Spiderman. What's his history? Where did he come from? Why did he become a hero? How did he get his powers? Think, damn it!_

She pinched the bridge of her nose, running through all the facts she had on her favorite hero, both those that the media had deduced and those that she herself had found out or put together. Despite this though, there were still several missing pieces to the puzzle that she couldn't fill in.

She had no idea where Spiderman's powers had come from, or why he'd chosen the life of a hero with all its ups and downs. There had to have been a reason though. No one chose to take up a cape and mask because they thought it would be fun – there was too much danger, far too many risks to consider it as just another thrill ride.

You needed motivation – a drive stronger than anything else in the world to decide one day to protect an entire city like New York, particularly from crazy villains like Hobgoblin or Doctor Octopus. So what had been Spiderman's motivation? Better yet, assuming that her crazy idea was correct and not just her overactive imagination, what would her father's motivation have been?

Heather sighed while taking a seat on the parapet, her head spinning from all the unanswered questions. She tilted her head up to the sky and watched a distant airplane make its way across the sky; the barest of specks with tiny lights glowing bright in the growing darkness. Inside that plane were perhaps a hundred people, all with their own busy and involved lives separate from her own, people that she would most likely never meet. She wondered if some of them were looking out the window right then, and contemplating, as she was, how big a world they lived in, and yet how small. After all, it had to be small if she was related to New York's greatest hero. Really, what were the odds of that?

_Apparently,_ she thought, looking down at her arms once more. _Pretty damn good._

Checking the time on her phone, while ignoring all the missed calls and text messages, made her frown uncertainly. _Five o'clock, school's definitely long over. I wonder how much detention I'll get for missing all my afternoon classes… Oh, forget detention, I'll be grounded for the rest of my high school career once Mom and Dad get a hold of me._

Heather took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. She had to go home soon, but she dreaded the very idea. Should she even bring up all the stuff she'd discovered? Confront her father with the truth, to see how he'll react? Or just let sleeping dogs lie, and pretend she was still ignorant? Why hadn't her parents ever told her?

Now that she thought about it, she wasn't really amazed or surprised anymore – she was _pissed_. They had no right to hide this information; she deserved to at least be in the loop! What, had they never considered that she could possibly inherit whatever mutated genes her father possessed? Clearly, they had not.

Heather made up her mind then that she would demand an explanation as soon as she got home. They couldn't ground her when they were the ones who'd lied, right? Right, of course not.

She grabbed her messenger bag, and started towards the fire escape, but stopped. She looked at the other side of the roof and beyond it, where visible was the above ground train she'd need to take to get home. She could always walk it, not like it wasn't far, but…

Heather smiled. _Let's see if web slinging is an inherited talent easily attained, or a skill to be honed._ Securing her bag, she backed up to the edge of the roof, shifting her weight carefully on the balls of her feet, like she was about to begin a fifty-yard dash.

A few deep breaths to psych herself up, then she closed her eyes for only a second, savoring the moment. She figured it was worth remembering. After all, if this didn't work, she'd be as good as a bug squashed under foot.

Her mouth kinked up in a half smile at the morbid joke – here she was, the quite possible daughter of Spiderman, taking about smooched insects… although spiders were technically arachnids. Shaking the stray thought from her head, she refocused and took one last deep breath.

"Here goes nothing," Heather murmured. And then she ran, pumping her legs hard. She was choosing to flat out ignore all the advice coaches had given her over the years about pacing herself at the start to save her stamina. In this case, she needed all the momentum she could get.

When she drew closer to the parapet, she gave an extra long lunge and shoved off with the tip of her shoe. For a fraction of a second, she seemed to fly through the air as the roof fell away behind her and her feet met with air. Then gravity caught up, and she began to arch downward.

Thinking quickly, Heather threw out an arm ahead of her, aimed at a building across the street and spat a webline to catch on the corner of the brickwork. Her fall turned into an arc, and she glided along through the air, almost gracefully.

As she approached the building rapidly, it dawned on her with sudden clarity why Spiderman used buildings on opposite sides of the street to soar through the New York skyline. It balanced out the equilibrium, making sure there were no face plants on skyscrapers. In light of this revelation, she shot a second webline to another apartment building across the street.

_That seems to be the trick,_ she thought with a relieved smile. It took a few tries but she managed to find a rhythm, so that she could coast down the street smoothly. After awhile, she found that she enjoyed the sensation, reveled in it really. It was almost like flying.

Too soon for her liking, she'd reached the platform. Knowing that she couldn't very well just jump down in front of everyone, she landed on the roof and glanced around. Eventually she found a service entrance with, thank god, a staircase.

Heather took several deep breathes to calm her racing heart, smoothing down her hair as she joined the other passengers waiting for the train, blending into the crowd. Still, she couldn't keep the exhilarated grin off her face.

Flying – she'd been flying in those few beautiful moments. It had been breathtaking, pure magic, like nothing she'd ever done before. Nothing could or would ever compare to it.

_Alright, so aside from quite possibly being grounded for the rest of my life, getting in a fight at school, and ruining my reputation forever… this hasn't been too bad of a day. Not too bad at all, _Heather thought contentedly, taking a seat on the crowded train's worn upholstery. She leaned her head back against the safety glass window, closing her eyes, a soft smile still resting on her mouth. _I don't care what happens after this – as long as I get to do that again, I'll be the happiest girl in New York City._


	7. Chapter 7

_So, when I was writing chapter six, I really got on a roll and before I knew it, I was at fifteen freaking pages, which while it's not my all-time record (believe me), it's still quite a bit of text… although I'm sure you guys would have been fine with a fifteen page chapter. Heck, after the last several stunted chapters I've posted, who wouldn't be? :P However, I decided to be lazy and cut it down to nine, using the last six to be the start of this chapter. Hope you don't mind too much. Whether you do or you don't, tell me about it. Send a review in! Yell at me, praise me, I don't care what the review says, just give me a response to this people – I need the feedback! B-) Even fla- you know what, I take that back. I don't want flames, they just piss me off }:-\ But still, helpful criticism would be appreciated and welcomed :) Anyway, I'm done with my ramblings. Let's get back to the story B-) Sit back, relax and enjoy the ride…_

**The Legacy of a Hero**

**Chapter Seven**

This good feeling lasted about as long as it took her to reach the platform closest to her family's apartment. Once she'd set foot on the sidewalk, however, her uncertainty and irritation flared up all over again. Trying her best to calm down, she walked down the street and let herself into the building climbing the stairs two at a time.

Heather hesitated outside the apartment door, listening for any voices on the other side. There was a soft murmur, but it sounded distant and slightly fake – the TV most likely – and there was also a sound like metal lightly clanking together, quite possibly her mother cooking dinner. Otherwise, it was silent.

_I don't _have_ to go in,_ she thought spitefully, pursing her lips in thought. _I could always hole up at Rhianna's house – or Aunt May's – they'd hide me for a while… probably. If Rhi isn't still freaked out by what happened with Josh and Aunt May doesn't think I'm a total failure._

_Then again, maybe I should just brave my parents. At least then I could get it all over with._ Finally deciding on what seemed to be the lesser of two evils, Heather stuck her key in the lock and opened the door, sticking her head inside first tentatively, like a spy making sure the coast was clear. It wasn't.

MJ stood at the stove, stirring something in a big pot, while something else sizzled in a frying pan. Her back was to the door, a phone held between her shoulder and ear. "Yes, I understand that, Barry," she said, in what was clearly her I'm-really-pissed-but-I'm-being-calm-for-now voice. "But you're not listening to what _I'm_ saying. We are two months away from opening night, and our lead actress has a twisted ankle and borderline laryngitis. This is a disaster with a capitol 'D', and quite frankly I am this close to firing your ass!" She paused, listening to whatever Barry had to say.

Heather eased the door open as quietly as possible, hoping she might be able to sneak past her mother and make a break for her room. Tiptoeing in, she quietly closed the door behind her. Just as she began making her way out of the kitchen and to freedom, something, or more accurately someone, thwarted her thoroughly.

Toddling into the room holding her sippy cup was Audrey, Heather's eighteen month old sister. Audrey's brown eyes widened in excitement as they caught sight of her, her mouth splitting into an ear-to-ear grin. "Heather!" she exclaimed happily, and loudly. Oh so very loudly.

Heather felt herself wince. _Busted, _she thought.

Mary Jane turned at the noise, the phone now pulled away from her ear, Barry's voice on the other end an unintelligible murmur. Her mother gave her a piercing look, one that clearly said stay-right-where-you-are-I'll-deal-with-you-in-a-minute. She turned back to the pot on the stove as Heather reluctantly sat down at the table.

Audrey meandered over on her chubby legs, putting her princess cup on the table before she stretched up high toward her sister. "Up," she requested simply, wiggling her dimpled arms impatiently.

"Up, up!" Audrey insisted when at first Heather ignored her, still sore about being inadvertently ratted out. With a sigh, the red head gave in and lifted the toddler into her arms, cuddling her close while playing with the baby's curly brown locks. Audrey settled herself in happily, grabbing her juice and taking several long sips while their mother wrapped up her phone call.

"Yes, I understand… no, frankly, I'm not happy. I understand, but I'm not happy… I don't care what it takes, I want this mess sorted out by tomorrow at the latest Barry, or you'll be looking for a new job… Yes… Uh-huh… Well, I'm glad we're on the same page now. Take care Barry, and remember what I said," MJ said sweetly into the receiver, clicking the end button with a bit more enthusiasm than necessary and heaving a tired sigh.

Mary Jane returned the phone onto its charger and went back to stirring the pot on the stove, which by the smell Heather had guessed was some sort of beef stew. For a moment, it was quiet in the apartment.

From the living room came a few hushed chords of music, some happy voices calling out indistinct words of encouragement – clearly some kiddie show like "Yo Gabba Gabba" or "Barney". Audrey took another drink while swinging her tiny legs, before putting the cup down again. She picked up some crayons and applied them to a coloring book on the table, a serious expression on her cherub-like face.

Heather played with her sister's hair and desperately thought of what her options might be. How exactly she could spin this tale and not get grounded? Demand the truth about her freaky DNA? Or come up with a really, really good excuse for what happened this afternoon? It was a tough choice and she wasn't having an easy time deciding.

Their mother was silent, which was a bad sign. Yelling, Heather could deal with, but when her mom was starting off a lecture with the silent treatment, it usually meant things were going to get ugly fast. Another beat of silence passed, in which Heather thought for one fleeting second that perhaps the school hadn't called. Maybe her Mom just wanted to know why her daughter hadn't made it home until late in the afternoon/early evening.

Unfortunately, it became apparent that Heather just didn't have that kind of luck.

"Your Principle called," MJ finally said, although she didn't turn around, almost as if she was making this statement to the potatoes in her big pot. "He said you were in a fight at school during lunch, and then took off afterwards and never came back." That was it. No, 'what happened' or 'what were you thinking' or 'didn't I raise you better'. Just a statement, given in a basically nonchalant manner, like she was discussing the weather forecast.

Heather's tongue felt dry, like her mouth was full of cotton. "Well…" she said, and stopped, unsure how to continue. Where had all her bravado gone? Her self-righteous anger, her confidence and conviction – why were they suddenly MIA? _Crap…_ flew through her head, right before, _I wonder if Robin or Kid Flash ever have these kinds of problems with their parents? _She shook the thought from her mind quickly. Just because she could produce spider silk from her arms and do a few flying tricks didn't mean that she was any type of teen superhero yet. That was something to think about later, once she had a better handle on this situation.

Heather suddenly realized it had been silent for a very long time in their tiny kitchen, although MJ hadn't moved. This probably meant that her mom wanted an explanation and wanted one now. One word was not going to suffice.

"I can explain what happened," she finally managed to say, and then felt like smacking herself. _Oh great, now I actually have to come up with a plausible excuse! Why couldn't I just have admitted defeat and told her to ground me?_

"See," she began tentatively, bouncing her sister on her lap nervously. "Yesterday, I broke up with my boyfriend, Josh – you know, the one you thought was scruffy all the time and needed a shower?" she attempted a laugh, but it was weak at best and her mom didn't react which sort of made it worse. No, actually it made it _a lot_ worse.

_Oh boy…_ "Um, anyway… So, we broke up and it was pretty messy. I was still really mad about something he did, and today at lunch I saw him with this total bi–" she stopped herself just in time as MJ finally turned with a sharp look. Heather blushed as she remembered the small set of ears in the room, which at this level of volume, could hear everything with perfect clarity.

"Uh, really super mean girl who's dated a lot of guys in our school." She finished quickly, and MJ gave the slightest of nods. The, you're-not-off-the-hook-but-you're-getting-brownie-points-for-that, look on her mom's face filled Heather with enough relief that she continued.

"So I was, you know, really ticked that he'd just dumped me last night, and now here he was the next day with the trashiest girl on campus fawning all over him. I was totally justified to be mad… for the most part. So then he started to rub it in my face, and I guess we sort of started arguing and the next thing I know he was grabbing my arm and hurting me. Yelling in my face like a jerk. What happened was really just a self-defense mechanism. Not controllable in the least. An instinctual, fight-or-flight type of thing," Heather realized distantly that she'd begun babbling, a dead giveaway of her anxiousness over MJ's silence.

However, she didn't seem capable to stop herself now that she was on a roll. "So, yeah, the rest is kind of a blur. I think I probably broke his nose, and possibly sprained his arm, but otherwise I don't think there was much structural damage. He'll live, you know? Not like I put him in a body cast. And I guess when it caught up to my brain what I just did, I panicked. Before I could really register what was going on, I'd run out of the school. After that, well, I just couldn't go back. I mean, it'll be brutal tomorrow. Everyone's going to be talking about what happened and staring at me and pointing and I'm probably going to get detention and…" her tumble of words ground to a halt as MJ raised one hand, index finger pointed in the universal one-second pose.

Heather bit her lip nervously. _Oh great, here it comes. I'll be grounded until college – I'll have to attend my high school graduation over the phone and have them mail me the diploma. I'll become a rumor at school, a weird folklore tale of the seemingly perfect honor student who one day snapped and broke her ex-boyfriend in two and afterwards spent the remainder of her days as a recluse on five psych medications, living in a tiny apartment somewhere in New Jersey with ten cats…And I hate cats… And taking pills… And Jersey! That's just great, perfectly peachy. God my life is going to suck!_

"Heather," her mom said while rubbing her eyes, cutting Heather's inner monologue short. "You're not grounded."

It took Heather a long second to process this statement. Once she did, all she could manage to say was, "…what?"

MJ snorted softly in amusement and shook her head. "Honey, I'm disappointed that you let yourself get so worked up over a boy – a boy who was a jerk with apparent bad taste, but still just a boy – and that you skipped out on your classes, but you're not grounded.

"Admittedly, this does toss your perfect attendance record out the window, but even the best of students sometimes miss a class, so it's not too much of a big deal. You'll have a good bit of homework to make up for today, plus the detention your principle mentioned. I think that in itself is punishment enough… although I do believe you'll be doing dishes tonight as well," she added pointedly, checking over her shoulder to make sure the stew didn't overheat.

Heather let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Oh…" she said eventually. "Okay. Well, I just want to say that I am sorry about today. I should've kept my cool."

MJ nodded in agreement. "Yes, you're right. Let this be a lesson in what happens when you don't think things through, okay? You're a good girl, sweetheart, and very smart. I don't want to be having this same discussion again if we can avoid it, alright?"

Heather nodded immediately, grateful that her mom wasn't mad at her. Disappointed yes, but then again, that was easier to deal with and she'd take it over angry any day.

"Now, why don't you call Rhianna and explain what happened? That girl has been ringing the phone off the hook all afternoon looking for you. Between her and the disaster with the play, I was about ready to pull my hair out," MJ shook her head dubiously as she returned to her preparations for the family's evening meal. "Oh, and don't stay on the line too long. I want you to get started on your homework before dinner. Rhianna and Mike dropped off your assignments earlier; I put them on your bed." The older red head added this as she reached into the cupboard and pulled a spice bottle from the rack, throwing some into the stew and stirring it in.

"Okay Mom, thanks." Heather picked up Audrey, sippy cup and all, and brought her back into the living room where a set of wooden blocks were scattered across the floor. As she'd suspected, Heather caught a glimpse of a brightly dressed character on the television singing about colors while using American Sign Language gestures, one for each color.

She put Audrey on the floor, the little girl's eyes immediately going to the TV. Brushing back her sister's hair exposed clear hearing aids that sat comfortably inside Audrey's tiny ears. Heather checked the settings and turned them up a little so her sister could better hear the show.

_Is it too loud?_ She signed, having to stamp her foot twice to get Audrey's attention.

_No. Good._ Audrey signed back, her movements much more fluid despite being only a year and a half old.

Heather smiled and pressed her lips to Audrey's forehead. _Okay. I love you._

Audrey grinned. _I love you, Heather. _She carefully spelled out each letter with her fingers.Then she turned her attention back to her show, watching the character's lips and the sign language intently.

Heather sighed tiredly, leaving the living room to call Rhi and get started on the mountain of homework she no doubt had. _If only all of life could be as simple as a small gesture, something stated in body language what you can't always say in words_, she reflected, collapsing on her bed and digging her phone out of her pocket.

She brought the phone up to hit speed dial and caught the smallest glimpse of that patch of white skin. She glanced at the door, which she'd closed. Tentatively she aimed for a corner of her ceiling, made the signature move and shot a small web that stuck fast. She grinned, examining the way her fingers either lay against her palm or splayed out from it. It wasn't a complicated motion, and it wasn't precisely what she'd been going for, but for now it was enough.

With a grin still on her face, Heather dialed her best friend. The phone rang only twice before Rhianna picked up. _"Where the hell have you been all day! I've been calling your house, your cell, your aunt's, I even called your Dad's office looking for you! You better have a good explanation for this Heather May Parker, or our friendship is over, do you hear me? Over!"_

Heather waited a long moment as Rhi breathed heavily on the other end of the line. "Feel better?" she asked calmly after awhile.

It was silent for a heartbeat. _"Yeah,"_ Rhi replied a second later. _"Much. Now spill! What happened today anyway? You went all 'Matrix' on Josh's ass and then took off."_

Heather sighed and rolled over onto her stomach. "Yeah, I… look, it's kind of complicated. I guess I was madder at him than I realized, and I just freaked out. But really, can you blame me after seeing Melissa all over Josh like that? I mean, come on! Couldn't he have a bit more class? We broke up last night, for Batman's sake!"

"_Well, yeah, I mean I get that part. Hell, I'd have decked him too if I'd gotten a chance… and the turned him into a eunuch with a spork,"_ Rhi replied in her usual blunt way.

Heather snorted and shook her head. "Classy," she commented. She could practically see the evil grin on her friend's face, despite being several blocks away.

"_You know it! But seriously, what I want to know is why you took off afterwards? You should have seen everyone's faces! They were all talking about it. 'Who knew shy little Heather Parker could be such a badass?' they said. Of course, I set the record straight… you did, after all, learn it from me,"_ Rhianna continued smugly.

Heather rolled her eyes. "Oh yes, I cannot thank you enough oh wise one – what would I do without you? Anyway," she said in a less sarcastic tone, changing the subject. "Mom, thank god, didn't ground me for what happened. I'm on dishes duty tonight, and I'll probably be babysitting my brother and sister for awhile, but overall she was pretty cool about it."

"_That's good," _Rhi commented positively. _"Wait does this mean no more you-know-what for awhile?"_

Heather nodded even though her friend couldn't see it. "Afraid so. I can't risk it. Besides, I need time to regain my parent's trust… two maybe three weeks tops at the minimum before I can even think of doing that."

"_That sucks,"_ Rhi whined. _"But I guess there's nothing to be done about it. Oh well. Hey, I'm still allowed to be the coordinator for your party, right?"_

"Ugh, I was kind of hoping that you'd forgotten about that," Heather groaned.

"_Are you kidding? It's your seventeenth birthday! It's a big deal. You'll be officially one step closer to true womanhood. It's worth celebrating! Besides, it gives me a chance to try and hook you up with a new hottie,"_ Rhi replied cheerily.

"I think I'll pass. I need a break from dating jerks. I don't have the stamina to keep knocking guys around when they piss me off – which they inevitably will – it's not good for my health," Heather refuted with a shake of her head. "Besides," she added, staring at the spider web in the corner. "I have a new, uh, project that I'm going to be busy with."

"_What kind of project?"_ Rhianna asked suspiciously.

Heather thought it over for a second. Should she tell her? This was her best friend. They'd been tight for years. Still, she wasn't sure if Rhi could keep this big of a secret under wraps. And, if this little idea swirling and growing bit by bit in her head worked out, she could be putting Rhianna and Mike both in danger. She didn't want anything to happen to her best friends. _Better to lie and beg forgiveness than tell them and regret it for the rest of my life_, she thought.

"It's, um, part of an early internship program," Heather lied, biting her lip, "a research project. Very top secret, but if I play my cards right it could land me an awesome summer job. It'll look great on my resume when I apply to college."

Rhi seemed to digest that for a moment. _"A research project on what exactly? Why didn't you mention this before?"_

Heather stared at the spider web then glanced to the box barely sticking out from under her bed. "It's on genetic research with arachnid DNA – you know, for curing cancer, HIV, stuff like that? I just found out about it a few days ago and hadn't had time to mention it."

"_Oh,"_ Rhi replied, a little wary but buying the story for the time being. _"That's cool I guess."_

"Yep," Heather replied in a chipper voice. "Well, anyway, I've got to get to this homework. Mom wants it done before dinner, and there's enough here to make a mini Mount Everest."

Rhi chuckled. _"I hear ya girl. Alright, text me later, yeah? I'll catch up with you tomorrow. See ya."_

Heather said goodbye and hung up, letting out a small sigh. _That sucked,_ she decided. _I hope I won't have to keep lying to Rhi. It's a lot harder than it looks._

Without warning, her bedroom door suddenly flew open and Harry stalked in, looking very pissed off. "Where were you?!" he demanded.

Heather raised an eyebrow. "Hello to you too. What flew up your butt and took lodging there?"

"Don't," Harry said icily. "I don't want to hear it. What I do want to hear is where you were all afternoon?"

Heather's eyebrows now scrunched together, both in thought and confusion. "God, Harry you're beginning to sound like Dad. Why do you need to know where I was, anyway?" She stood up and plugged her phone into its charger and then picked up a stack of papers sitting on her desk, flipping through the worksheets to evaluate what could get done quickly and what needed more concentration.

Harry crossed his arms tightly over the blue soccer jersey he was wearing. "Normally, I wouldn't care one iota what you do with your time, little miss perfect. But right now I'd _love_ to hear what kind of excuse you can come up with for missing _my game!"_ He was practically yelling by the end of the sentence.

Heather's fingers froze while holding up a sheet of Geometry problems. "Oh, my god…" she said slowly, sinking into her desk chair. "Harry, I… oh, god I'm so sorry." She stared at her little brother's angry and hurt face, ice forming in her stomach. "I mean, I just – I don't know what happened."

"What happened," Harry replied in a clipped tone, "is you forgot about me. This was the last game before the semi-finals. You knew how important this was to me!" He sighed and shook his head, turning away from her. "This is the kind of thing I expect from Dad… but not you, Heather. Not you."

"Harry, I –" She put her hand on his shoulder, pulling him back towards her. "I know sorry doesn't cut it, buddy. But I am. I'm so, so sorry! I made a promise, and I broke it."

"No duh, Sherlock," he retorted, his anger mostly diffused down to disappointment. "It was an awesome game too," he continued. "I scored the winning goal."

She tried for a smile. "That's great, Harry. I'm so proud of you kiddo," she ruffled her brother's brown hair.

"It _was_ great," he gave a ghost of a smile, but it vanished just as quickly. "Except that when the game was over, I thought you'd be the first to rush the field like you always are. But you weren't there… only Mom and Audrey were there. Mom even missed that shot because Audrey needed a diaper change."

_Stab me in the heart and give it a twist why don't you,_ Heather thought, frowning. "Oh, Harry. I can't tell you how sorry I am. I know that sucks."

Harry sighed. "Doesn't change the fact that you weren't there."

"I know," she said quickly. "But listen, I'll make it up to you. When are the semi-finals?"

"A week from today," Harry replied suspiciously.

"Well then," Heather said briskly. "I'll be there, in a front row seat. Nobody and nothing will stop me, I promise." She smiled confidently, tweaking her brother's ear affectionately.

Harry's face gained just a small bit of hope. "Really? You promise?"

"Count on it!" Heather declared confidently.

Harry smiled for real this time. "Thanks, Heather."

"Anything for my favorite brother," she replied easily.

"I'm your only brother, stupid." He rolled his eyes and turned, ready to leave now that everything had finally been sorted out.

"That's why you're my favorite!" She called after him in a sing-song voice.

He twisted around and started walking backwards. _You are so annoying sometimes,_ he signed.

_Takes one to know one,_ she retorted while getting up, ready to close her door so she could finish her homework. Harry stuck his tongue out maturely before heading into his own bedroom and closing the door.

Heather shook her head and closed the door, heaving a small sigh for what felt like the billionth time that day. _How could I have forgotten Harry's game today? I never miss his games or anything else he or Audrey are doing. This better not become a habit, I am _so_ not turning into my old man… well, aside from the obvious stuff anyway._ Pushing it from her mind, she sat down at her desk once more and began tackling her homework.

About two hours later, Heather filed the last worksheet into its proper folder and placed that into her messenger bag for tomorrow. "Finally," Heather breathed in relief.

"Heather! Harry! Your father is home, and dinner's ready!" MJ called from the kitchen.

"Be right there, Mom!" Heather yelled in return. She stood and stretched from the chair, her back aching from hunching over her desk for so long. _I need to start doing those stretching exercises I learned in gymnastics if I want to stay flexible… though maybe the flexibility is inherit and I don't need to work on it? Hmm, I'll have to figure that out later._

In the dining room, which was really just a section of the kitchen with a round table and chairs, Heather found her father sitting and reading over some paperwork. Peter ran a hand through his hair, frowning at whatever was on the page.

Heather hesitated in the doorway. _Do I ask him? Do I pretend to still be naïve and clueless? I mean, I saw him. I flat out saw him in costume and with the mask off. I know now that it wasn't a dream._

"Heather, honey would you set out some bowls, silverware and napkins?" MJ asked as she placed the pot of stew on the table, next to a basket of rolls and a plate of fried squash.

"Harry, get everyone a drink, would you? Oh and put some apple juice in Audrey's cup, please," her mom added as Harry walked around Heather.

Heather mentally shook herself. _Not yet. Maybe later… when I've got a better handle on this. I'll tell him eventually – but not yet._ She came into the room and did as her mom requested.

"Peter, your student's papers can wait until after we eat," MJ chided lightly, kissing her husband's brown hair in passing to get the butter dish.

Peter looked up and smiled, "Alright, if you say so. I'll be sure and blame you though if they complain about how long it took to get feedback."

"Oh well. They'll live," Mary Jane replied simply, picking up Audrey and placing her in her high chair.

"By the way some of them talk, you'd think just the opposite," he joked in return, gathering the essays and placing them in his briefcase on the floor. The rest of the family took their seats at the table and dinner commenced. For a few moments, the only sounds heard was the sound of food being passed or requests for something to be passed.

Finally, when all were seated and settled with a little of everything, they began eating, the Mr. and Mrs. Parker immediately filling the silence with conversations about the day's activities. Peter complained about a lecture he had to give on quantum physics that most of his students had fallen asleep during, and then reported happily that he was close to choosing the students who would be eligible to enter the internship program the university was offering over the summer. MJ reported on the progress of the latest play she was coproducing, including the mishap with the lead role that Heather had overheard part of earlier, and that Audrey had lost a second baby tooth that morning.

It was a typical conversation between her parents, yet Heather was still waiting with somewhat bated breath for the other shoe to drop. While MJ had said that Heather wouldn't be grounded over the incident that day, there was no telling whether her father would overrule that decision or not. However, as the meal progressed, Heather felt herself relax a little more and more. Her mom hadn't said a word about the call from her school, and her dad hadn't asked about anything of the sort. For the first time that day, things were genuinely beginning to look up.

"Hello? Earth to weirdo, come in weirdo," Harry said, breaking Heather's train of thought.

She looked up and narrowed her eyes in annoyance at her little brother. "What?"

"We've been trying to contact you for many a moon young Skywalker," Harry replied, grinning.

Heather rolled her eyes. "Not that stupid Star-Wars-speak again, it's so annoying. Aren't you over that yet?"

"Nope," he replied simply, popping the 'p'. "Anyway, like I was saying _Princess Leia_," he continued sarcastically. "Can you help me with my English homework later? I just don't get this Shakespeare guy. I mean, why can't he talk like a normal person?" She had to hold back a giggle at the puzzled look on her brother's face.

"You do know that back then that was normal talk, right?" Heather questioned, scooping up another spoonful of stew.

Harry frowned. "Really? But it takes so long to say anything when you talk like that. All those 'thys' and 'thees' and stuff, it's annoying."

Heather smiled, deciding to have mercy on the twelve year old. "Alright, I'll help however I can," she finally agreed.

Harry smiled his thanks and returned to stuffing his face. _Honestly, that boys' metabolism is astounding,_ she thought, shaking her head. She glanced at her parents and noted the lull in conversation. _Now would be a good time to bring it up… but where do I even start? _She mulled it over silently. _Maybe if I ease into it from a different angle._

"Hey, Dad?" She started slowly, voice hesitant despite herself.

"Yeah?" Peter glanced up expectantly.

"I was just wondering," Heather began, choosing her words carefully. "If you'd taken any new pictures of Spiderman recently?"

Peter frowned slightly. "Not lately. Things have been pretty quiet around the city. But I have heard rumors at the Bugle lately that something big is brewing with the Silvermane and Tombstone groups. It could just be the calm before the storm right now, there's no way to tell for sure."

Heather nodded and began plotting her next question cautiously. She wanted to ease into this conversation without tipping her hand too soon. "I have this…" a split second of hesitation before the answer came to her. "This school project that I have to do, for social studies, and I wondered if maybe you could help me out. I'm writing a paper on Spiderman – the assignment is to write about a public figure of your generation that you admire," she observed the guarded looks her parents exchanged and quickly added, "I thought that maybe you'd be able to help me out, since you've been his personal photographer for so long. I mean, you were there when his career first took off. You out of anyone in New York would know the most about him, right?" _Never hurts to stroke the ego a little,_ Heather reasoned, only feeling the tiniest bit guilty over lying to her parents.

Peter turned the story over in head for a second, his parental radar working overtime to find any bull crap lurking in her words. "I don't see why not," he replied eventually. "As long as it's for school," he inserted quickly, trying to catch her off-guard.

_This is turning into a game of poker,_ Heather thought, outwardly smiling like the picture of innocence. "Of course it is, Dad. Thank you."

Peter smiled, finally buying the whole kit and caboodle. "What would you like to know first?"

"Well," She dragged the word out just a bit, rolling the sound on her tongue. "Firstly, do you have any idea why he became Spiderman?"

Peter appeared reflective. "I can't say for sure, since I'm not in his head, but over the years it seems to me that he went through some sort of very personal trauma. It was something that motivated him enough to stand up for others so they wouldn't go through what he had."

Heather withheld an eye roll. _No duh, I figured that one out easily enough Sherlock, and I haven't been 'working' with him for close to twenty years._ "Seems plausible," she approved. "What do you think that could have been?"

Peter shrugged and tore off a piece of his roll. "Possibly the death of a loved one," he responded, in what was probably supposed to be a vague, off-hand tone.

She noticed though that there was a slight tensing in his shoulders as he spoke, like something had pinched a nerve. "Sure, that makes sense. It should be a good start to the paper." Outwardly she nodded, but on the inside her head spun with possibilities.

Her father had been exposed to lots of deaths. His parents had perished in a plane crash when he was a small boy, and while it seemed semi-plausible for a motivation, it just didn't fit right in her mind. _It had to be someone he was very close to, someone who was always there for him. Maybe even someone that he sometimes talks about…_ Heather stirred her soup for a moment before looking up and glancing idly around their apartment.

She nearly dropped her spoon when her eyes landed on the portrait hanging on the wall in the living room. Three people were in it – her dad as a skinny preteen in dorky glasses, her Great Aunt May with her normal sweet smile, and of course her Great Uncle Ben, his strong hand laid gently on his nephew's shoulder. Ben Parker, her father's favorite and only uncle, who died when Peter was about her age from a gunshot wound. A wound inflicted by a carjacker. And Peter Parker was on the scene just moments before Ben Parker took his last breaths of life.

_Holy Flash… my Dad _is_ Spiderman! Wow…I wonder if suddenly asking for his autograph would be too weird?_


	8. Chapter 8

_So, I admit, this is mostly just a filler chapter, but it does have a lot of important stuff happening in it. I wanted to get a lot of details and specifics out of the way so I could get into the real meat of the story in later chapters, so that's why we have this here. Hope you guys like it, and I apologize for the lateness – I've been having computer problems and a lot of this had to be written at school between classes. Anyway, as always please sit back, relax and enjoy the ride…_

**The Legacy of a Hero**

**Chapter Eight**

The next morning was Saturday, and Heather woke up early enough that it was still dusky outside. She'd spent half the night up thinking about everything she'd discovered. Her father was a superhero, her mom knew and neither had bothered to tell her, and, oh yeah, she had powers too. To say that the universe had decided to screw with her life would be an understatement. At this rate, she wouldn't have been surprised if a black hole suddenly opened in the middle of Times Square.

Trying to shake that thought from her head, she quietly got up and dressed, managing not to wake her parents or siblings miraculously. She poured a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee, the machine having started to brew while she was pulling on clothes. Carrying both carefully, she returned to her room, she shut the door and sat at the desk.

She chewed a few bites thoughtfully. _What had my Dad always said to me? 'With great power came great responsibility'. True, he obviously had no idea that I possessed his mutated DNA, but for once he's made a good point. These powers I have, I can't ignore them. More importantly, it would be a crime in itself to neglect them – either through disuse or misuse. So that leaves me with a very tantalizing opportunity._ She smiled at the idea.

Powering up her laptop – a present from her last birthday – she pulled up a Google search. Her fingers lay poised on the keyboard, ready to strike, but paused, uncertain. What_ was_ she looking for?

She stared at the screen and typed "spiders" into the search bar. The first two hits were for a Wikipedia page on spiders and a pest control website with an identification chart for poisonous and non-poisonous spiders. The wiki she opened in a new page, but skipped on the pest control. After that were some university websites that specialized in arachnid research (those were opened); a link to see images of spiders (tabbed that as well); a site entitled "Frequently Encountered Spiders in California" (pass), and at the bottom were several screen shots from stupid people who'd found giant spiders in their houses and decided to put their captures up on YouTube (double pass).

She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but this wasn't it. It wasn't like someone made a site titled, "How to Become a Hero Sidekick in Three Easy Steps", and it was doubtful that the book store down the street would have a copy of "Superhero Success for Dummies". She frowned and took a long drink of coffee. _This might be harder than I thought_.

After a rather awkward encounter with her parents in the kitchen trying to act like nothing was wrong, she left the apartment at about nine. Heather met Rhi at the train station where they got on together and rode it until they reached Manhattan from Queens, then transferred to the train that would take them to China Town on the yellow line.

It had become a tradition of sorts that once a month on Saturday, Rhi and Heather would take off early and walk around China Town and Little Italy, window shopping and haggling with vendors on deals over everything from scarves and key chains, to jewelry and bags that only an expert would be able to tell were knockoffs. It was a chance for them to hang out and have some pure girl time away from school, their families, and their boyfriends (Rhi's steady one and Heather's flavor of the week).

"You like Prada? Gucci?" A small Chinese woman asked Rhi as they walked past a small shop. The blonde acted as though she hadn't heard the woman, maintaining her leisurely stroll.

It was a practiced art to ignore hawkers, and Rhi would often swear up and down that if haggling were a sport, she'd have a handful of gold Olympic medals around her neck. But then, she also said the same thing about her 'Rhi-zzling' talent, so maybe there really wasn't that much to it after all.

"I'm telling you Heather, come Monday, you are going to be the hottest gossip since Liz Brooker showed up at school after summer break with a baby bump in freshman year," Rhi gushed, glancing for a moment at a row of bracelets before moving on.

"Buy a Rolex for your boyfriend, baby? He'll love you forever," a pusher standing by a table called as we passed.

Heather shook her head. "Honestly, Rhi. I wish you'd stop talking about it. It wasn't that big of a deal. You know my Dad put me in karate when I was seven – I didn't stick with it, but I guess I still have some fight left in me. Besides, you forget, I was pissed. Adrenalin does wonders to the human body." She paused for a moment in front of a store selling Chinese lanterns and fake Jade dragons, but then moved on, as nothing caught her attention.

Rhianna rolled her eyes. "Sure, HM, whatever you say." They stopped at the corner to wait for the crosswalk, squished against the throng of people. After a minute or so, the traffic light changed and they crossed the street to continue shopping.

"So, this research project of yours," Rhi began after a long silence and three more shops, one of which they paused in to examine the handbags on sale. "What exactly are you going to be doing, anyway?"

"Oh you know," Heather scanned the street, avoiding her friend's green eyes. "A bit of reading, some hypothesizing, a lot of field work – it's going to be pretty boring to be honest with you. But it's a great opportunity, I can't pass it up."

"Heather, you're probably the smartest girl I know in this city. Why would you bother with this extra project? Everyone knows you're one of the main competitors for valedictorian, and with your grades and AP honors classes, you'll end up at some Ivy League school without lifting a finger. They'll be begging for you to come. You work way too hard, girl. I'm beginning to think that you're turning into your old man – incapable of having any fun and overly geeky," Rhi wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"I too can have fun," Heather protested in a rather loud voice. One of the other customers glanced in their direction curiously. The red head blushed and busied her hands with fingering the fabric of woven scarves.

Rhi smiled knowingly. "Right, that's you. Miss Wild-Party-Girl, out all hours of the night, a real animal," she teased, taking a tentative sniff from a bottle of Chanel perfume.

Heather drew her lips in a thin line. "Funny," she muttered, dropping the scarf back on its display rack and walking outside.

"Heather! Oh wait up," Rhi called, hurrying after her friend after putting the perfume down.

"Hey," she said, catching Heather's arm. "I'm kidding, alright? You are fun, just sometimes," the blonde glanced across the street for a moment, before looking back with a more serious expression, "Sometimes I get scared about you. You put the weight of the world on your shoulders. You take all those hard classes, you babysit and help your sister, you act like a second mom to Harry 'cause your dad's not always around… I worry that one day it'll all be too much and you'll – well, you'll snap or something."

Instantly, Heather's irritation dissipated. Rhianna's mother had had a mental break down when the blonde girl was very young, and was still on medication to help regulate her depression and mood swings. Rhi always claimed she didn't recall much from the day it happened. Yet, it was times like these, when a flash of maturity would shine in her green eyes and her expression would be so serious, that it showed she remembered a lot more than she let on.

Heather sighed and gave a world weary smile. "I'm okay, Rhianna. Really. I don't have _that_ much on my plate. I mean, sure the classes are difficult, but that's good. Because they make me try work for it – I can never be bored. And yes, sometimes it's… difficult," she used the word delicately, "dealing with my sister's deafness, but I can't hate her for it, or even get mad. Audrey is so sweet and works hard to get what she wants; it inspires me to as well. And as for Harry… he needs me. Even if he never says it, I know it's true. Not because Dad isn't around as much as he could or should be, but because I've always been his rock. I can't quit on him now."

Rhi returned the smile and pulled her friend into a one armed hug. "My friend, Supergirl," she remarked with a twinkle in her eye. "You're an angel, Heather. No one can ever say different."

"If I'm the angel," Heather wondered aloud. "What does that make you?"

"Devil's best girl," Rhi winked.

Heather snorted and shook her head. "Well come on then, let's go find a new bag to match your horns."

They laughed and began walking again. A few blocks further down brought them to a cross street that ran into Little Italy. Without discussion, they turned towards it, walking beneath the neon sign stretched between two buildings: "Welcome to Historic Little Italy".

"Ooh, let's go in here, they have fantastic cakes and pastries," Rhi suggested, pointing to a small deli between two other restaurants.

"Okay."

They got a table near the back and ordered slices of fruit pastry with sponge cake and crème filling, and a pot of hot apple and cinnamon flavored tea.

"Oh, my god," Heather moaned after the first bite.

"I know!" Rhianna agreed. "I found this place with Leah a few weeks ago when she was home for the weekend."

Heather nodded. Leah was Rhianna's second oldest sister, and was currently studying at Juilliard as a musical genius cellist. "I can see why you wanted to come back. This cake is amazing." Rhi nodded, her eyes closed happily as she slid another bite onto her tongue. For the next several minutes, they sat and chatted idly while eating their treats and drinking the sweetened apple and cinnamon tea.

Heather glanced around the deli, eyes wandering across the pictures on the wall, black and white snapshots of old celebrities who'd visited the small restaurant. Something caught her eye in the next glance and she stared at the girl and boy sitting across the room from Heather and her friend.

The couple was dressed in a punk/gothic style, which stood out easily as it was, but something about the girl's fingerless, black motorcycle gloves and her black combat boots caught Heather's eye. The gloves were decorated with blood red roses stabbed down the middle with ornate daggers, while the combat boots had green viper snakes slithering up the sides. To say they were a little distracting would be an understatement. Without much thought to her actions, she stood up and moved to the couple's table, ignoring Rhi's questioning look.

"Excuse me," Heather said.

The girl and her boyfriend looked up. The girl raised a pierced eyebrow in question, "Yeah?"

"I know this sounds weird," Heather explained, "But I have to know. Where did you get those gloves and boots?"

The girl glanced down at her footwear and accessories in surprise. "Uh, there's a leather store about four blocks from here. I get a lot of stuff from there. The guy can make custom designs of whatever you want, it's pretty cool. Why?" She asked, a flash of a pierced tongue peeking between her black lips.

"Thinking of joining the call?" The boy asked, the ring in his lip flipping up at funny angles as he talked.

Heather tried not to wince at the tattoo on the side of his face, an image of barbed wire twisted with snakes, stretching from forehead to chin line. It looked way too painful to be worth it, in her opinion. "No. I just wondered. Thanks." She walked back to Rhi before the couple could see the flush of embarrassment on her face.

"What the hell was that?" Rhi questioned in a hiss. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"No, of course not," Heather took a sip of tea to try and calm herself.

Rhi looked at her friend expectantly, waiting for a more thorough explanation that never came. She gave a short sigh. "Fine, whatever. Talk to weirdoes who probably drink blood or something, see if I care."

Heather raised her eyes to the ceiling tiles. "Rhi, not every Goth drinks blood or does occult stuff… just a good percentage. You can't judge everyone by their cover."

"Right, right, whatever," Rhi replied, finishing off her tea in one long sip. "Come on, I've got to get home. Mr. Grugger gave us a pile of homework that's due Tuesday – I can't screw up this late in the semester or I'll be stuck in summer school."

Heather's expression was thoughtful. "You go ahead. There's something my mom wanted me to pick up while I was out. I'll see you on Monday, okay?"

Rhi nodded. "Sure, text me." She sketched a wave, throwing her purse over one shoulder as she walked to the register, settling her tab quickly before disappearing outside.

Heather wasn't far behind, leaving a small tip as well with her bill before she stepped back out onto the street. Adjusting her satchel across her shoulders, she turned left and followed the street for four blocks before she spotted a sign over a doorway. "Louie's Leathers," She murmured under her breath. She walked inside, the smell of leathered goods wafting into her nose, nearly overwhelming her other senses.

"Hello?" She called.

"Back here," A voice from the rear of the tiny shop called, muffled by the rows and rows of goods stacked or hung neatly everywhere. There were bags, wallets, jackets, boots, gloves, hats, even motorcycle chaps. "I'll be right with you, just have a look around and let me know if you see something you like."

"Thanks," Heather replied, focusing in on a low rack of boots lined up by one wall. She ran her fingers over the tops as her eyes slid down the row, before resting on one black pair. She picked them up, noting that while they were sturdily built they weren't overly heavy, and they came up to mid-calf on her legs.

"That's a nice pair. Had those made not two weeks ago," A voice suddenly said.

Heather looked up, taking in the tall, large man in front of her. With his enormous stature, dark eyes and Italian-New-York accent, she thought that he'd make a good member of the mafia. The friendly smile on his face though, shattered the image.

Heather glanced back down at the boots in her arms before returning her gaze to the salesman. "I like these a lot. I heard you did customizing on items?"

The man nodded. "If you can draw it or describe it, I can make it happen for a low additional cost. There has yet to be a design Louie Delamonica can't make," he waggled a huge finger at her, grinning. "What's your pleasure? Flowers? Your name in pretty cursive?"

Heather glanced to the side self-consciously. "Actually, I had something else in mind."

"Here I got a pad of paper by the register, see if you can sketch it out for me," Louie offered. He turned and ambled behind the small counter, picking up a well-used sketchbook and flipping around for Heather to use, producing a stubby pencil from a chipped "I Heart New York" mug.

Heather put the boots down on the counter and picked up the pencil, hesitating for a moment before drawing a design she'd seen from a far and up close many times in her life. She finished the picture quickly, turning it around to show Louie. He twisted his mouth to the side in thought.

"You want, uh, maybe this piece on the side at the top," he tapped the portion of the picture in question with a finger, "and the rest of this stretching across the rest of the boot?"

Heather nodded. "Yeah, like that. You think you could also do that on some gloves?"

Louie hmmed thoughtfully, walking from behind the counter to shuffle around in a bin filled with paired gloves. "You're what? Maybe a size small or small-medium?"

She shrugged. "About that I guess."

"Fingers or no? And do you want these up to your elbows or at your wrists?" He asked.

"Fingerless, and at my wrist," Heather clarified.

Finally, Louie held up a pair of black gloves made of tougher leather than typical fashion gloves. He dropped them on the counter. They seemed to match the boots perfectly, like they were made as a set.

Heather smiled. "They're perfect. Can you put this part on the back?" she tapped a bit of the picture with the pencil suggestively.

Louie nodded, rubbing his neck. "Sure kid. Gonna take me until maybe next weekend before these are done, and that's if I rush the order. That soon enough?"

Heather nodded. "It's perfect."

"Alright," Louie grabbed an order form from a pile and scribbled across it in handwriting that was less recognizable than a doctor's. She wondered silently if he'd be able to read the order later, or assume it was a bit of Chinese characters. "This is your total. Sign here and here." He pointed to several places on the form.

Heather nodded at the price, pulling her credit card from her wallet and handing it over while she signed the form.

Louie swiped her card and rang her order up. "Thanks for choosing _Louie's Leathers_. Be here to pick up your stuff next Saturday before closing, and bring proof of purchase for verification, alright?"

Heather grinned. "I'll be here."

After leaving Little Italy and Chinatown, Heather took the train to another shopping district, seeking inspiration. She'd had a few ideas last night before she'd fallen asleep of costume designs and what materials she'd need.

Coming from a middle class family, Heather was used to wearing secondhand clothes and making do. And when push came to shove, she'd learned to recycle what she had on hand and make it into something new. Just last year, she'd taken a home economics class that had included how to sew. With a little extra help from her aunt, she'd gotten pretty good at it. Now, she was going to put those skills to good use.

Scanning the storefront display windows, she stopped when her eyes landed on what she'd been looking for. With a small smile, she stepped out of the unusually warm spring afternoon and into the cool interior of the fabric shop.

A tall, thin woman with dark hair in a long blue skirt and white peasant blouse smiled at Heather from behind the counter. "Hello, dear, I'm Jasmine. What can I help you with today?"

"Hi, I'm looking for some fabric that would be used in sports clothes. Like what they make gymnastic outfits out of. Do you carry something like that?" Heather inquired, keeping her tone polite.

The woman smiled. "I believe so, follow me," she stepped out from behind the cash register and walked towards the back of the store. She turned and eyed a rack filled with bolts of fabric speculatively. Whilst walking down the aisle she ran her long fingers along the fabrics, her lips moving silently as she counted off the bolts.

"Ah, here we are," Jasmine said eventually, stopping in front of a small section. She gestured at the five bolts of athletic cloth, which consisted of black, red, green, yellow and purple. "This is all we have I'm afraid."

Heather fingered the black and purple textiles carefully, calculating mentally the cost, yardage and measurements. "No, no. This is perfect," she assured the saleswoman.

Jasmine smiled. "How much will you need, dear?" Heather rattled off the amount of both the black and purple fabric and the store owner nodded. "Will you need a pattern or any type of accessories like buttons?"

Heather chewed her lip for a moment. "Possibly a pattern… do you have any for one piece body suits?"

"Such as what Olympians athletes wear for the winter games?" Jasmine looked a little puzzled, the smooth tan skin of her forehead wrinkling. "I believe so… just what sort of garment are you making? Is it for a school play perhaps?"

Heather glanced down at the fabric in her fingers. "Something like that," she finally said. "More like for a… costume party. I'll need a hood or cowl too."

"Ah, I see," Jasmine smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "You and your friends are dressing as the Justice League, or the Avengers – superheroes, yes? Superman, Wonder Woman, Captain America or Iron Man – that sort of thing, yes?"

"Oh, um, yeah! That's it," Heather gave a nervous chuckle.

"Why didn't you say so? We just received some patterns for hero costumes last month – big seller around Halloween you know. Hang on a moment, I'll get you a few," Jasmine disappeared into a back storeroom, long skirt swishing with every movement, and Heather silently let out a sigh of relief.

Normally, she would've been insulted that someone thought she still dressed up and went begging for candy at her age. At the moment though, she'd take any plausible story that was given to her. It was better than the alternative, which was being found out before she'd even put on a mask. Being a shutdown super before stopping even one crime would suck big time.

"Here we are," Jasmine reappeared with a handful of patterns in her arms. "Which were you thinking of using? Hawk Woman? White Tiger? Or perhaps one of the famous villains; Poison Ivy is very popular these days."

Heather scanned the pictures on the patterns, eyeing two in particular. One was her father's costume and one was a generic female vigilante outfit with a mask that attached to the suit while still allowing her hair to hang out. "I think I'll take these, along with the fabric," she replied.

"Good choice. Let's ring you up, dear."

In short order, Heather was leaving the store laden with black plastic shopping bags filled with materials and designs, a plan fixed firmly in mind. _Now for phase two,_ she thought. Holding the bags with one arm she fished out her phone and dialed an old number.

It rang twice before the call was answered. _"Yeah, Coach Holldar,"_ a voice on the other end of the line said.

"Hey Coach, it's me. Heather Parker? I was on your team a couple of years ago," Heather only hoped that he remembered her. He was a great guy, but from what she recalled, he could barely keep track of which gymnasts were his and was often found giving advice to the other team.

"_Parker, Parker…"_ he muttered, and she could just picture him scratching his salt and pepper hair as he thought. _"Oh, the red head with the actor father and reporter mother, right?"_

"Uh, yeah, close enough," Heather bit her lip to keep in a laugh.

"_Well how you been, kid? It has been a while – about, what, six or seven years I think. What can I do for you, sweetheart?"_ Holldar sounded cheerful and happy, just like she remembered him, which was making her second guess this decision.

Would it be right to lie to him? He'd seen her through a lot of tough times when she was competing. He'd always been supportive and energetic, even when she couldn't stick that landing after fifty tries, or she'd placed bronze or not at all at a meet. It felt wrong to deceive him. _And yet…_ she didn't finish the thought.

"I was wondering if you were still doing private coaching sessions at your old rec center – I'm considering coming out of retirement, or at least trying to get back into a routine," Heather said, plowing ahead despite her misgivings.

"_I tell you what – why don't you come down to the center tomorrow afternoon after lunch? You run a few routines for me, I'll check your form, and we'll do some drills and see how it goes. Sound good?"_ Holldar offered.

"That sounds amazing, thank you," She grinned, unbelieving of her luck. Everything was coming together.

"_Alright, I'll see you at one then."_

"See you then," she ended the call just as she started down the steps into the subway.

A blast of warm, stagnant air hit her, making her almost miss the hot, unforgiving sun on the street level. At least up there her nose wasn't being subjected to the moist smell of the tunnels – a strange combination of sweat, dirt and piss. She wondered for a moment if subways smelled like that everywhere, or just in New York. She had a feeling though that it wasn't a biased stench, and somewhere in London or Paris or Germany, other travelers were being subjected to the same torture.

_The price we pay for cheap, convenient public transit,_ she mused as she took a seat in a fortunately air conditioned car. The ride was relatively quick with only a few transfers, and before she knew it she was back on her street walking into the apartment building.

Unlocking the door, she stepped inside and hollered, "I'm home."

"Hey weirdo," Harry called back. "Audrey and I are in here."

Heather figured out quickly enough that 'here' meant the living room. There she found Audrey playing with one of her dolls and Harry pouring over some hefty looking textbooks, his forehead pinched with concentration.

"Hey guys. Where are Mom and Dad?" Heather dropped her bags by the couch and pulled off her denim jacket.

"Mom got called down to the theater – something about a light falling?" Harry replied without looking up. "Dunno where Dad is. He said he'd be here pretty much all day. Then his cell phone beeped and he ran out like the place was on fire or something. Last thing he called was not to go anywhere or let Audrey fall out a window or something," he shook his head and rubbed his eyes.

"Honestly, if I'd wanted to kill the little sprite, don't you guys think I'd have done it before you all got attached?" he sent a halfhearted glower at the baby of the family, who looked up and smiled angelically in return.

Heather held back an eye roll. "So glad you've learned to love her and have totally gotten over the whole I'm-not-the-center-of-attention-anymore thing. I mean, that was getting _so_ annoying," she retorted.

He stuck out his tongue. "I don't hate her. Just wish Mom and Dad had waited until I was, oh I don't know, in college before having another kid."

"I'm almost in college," Heather remarked, silently marveling that she only had a year and a half left.

"Seriously though, haven't our parents ever heard of birth control?"

"Obviously not; they had you after all," she smirked and tweaked his ear.

"Funny," he retorted, swatting at her hand and missing. "Are you going to help me with this Shakespeare crap or not?"

"Well since you asked so nicely," Heather snorted, taking a seat on the couch and leaning over the book.

But even as she explained sonnets and wrote down plot points of _As You Like It_, her mind was elsewhere. Silently wondering about what adventure her arachnid hero was on; daydreaming about when she'd be out there with him, saving the world. For now though, she was just saving her brother from an 'F' in English class.

_Soon,_ she thought. _Very soon._


	9. Chapter 9

_Hi! :D So, yeah this took a lot longer than I thought it would to get out, but here it is, chapter nine! Yay! As has been asked about, we start to see more about the extent of Heather's powers in here and get more interaction between her and her family. Again, this is a bit more of filling in the blanks, but I'm planning for the next chapter to get some action in. Be patient now. Por favor, mi amigos! ;) And pretty please remember to review! B-) Alright, here we go…_

**The Legacy of a Hero**

**Chapter Nine**

Heather woke up early again on Sunday, the next day. She got dressed and slung her bag over her shoulder. Leaving her room she rounded the corner into the kitchen and stopped short. Sitting at the table were her mother and sister, while Peter stood at the stove and scrambled eggs in a pan. To say she felt speechless was an understatement.

_Am I being punked or something? Dad's never here in the mornings, let alone making breakfast. Is the end of the world upon us?_ Heather wondered. "Uh, morning?" She said tentatively, waving.

MJ smiled. "Good morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?" she asked, stroking Audrey's hair as the little girl yawned and rubbed her eyes.

"Okay I guess," Heather replied, her eyes flitting between her parents uncertainly. "Shouldn't you be at work already, Dad?" She tried not to sound annoyed or rude, but it was pretty hard. Especially considering her father had lied to her for, oh, her whole life.

If Peter noticed her tone, he didn't say so. "I'm taking the morning off. Still have to go in for the afternoon and evening – there's a new exhibit opening at the Met and Mr. Jameson wants shots – but for now, I'm spending time with my family." He and MJ exchanged smiles as he slid the cooked eggs onto a plate.

"Oh, that's… nice," Heather muttered eventually. "Where, uh, is Harry?"

MJ explained, "Your brother is hanging out with his friends at the park today. He said he'd be home for lunch." She speared some eggs with a fork and offered it to Audrey. The toddler smiled happily, accepting the breakfast.

"You hungry, kiddo? There's plenty," Peter invited, taking a seat next to his wife and youngest daughter. He opened his arms invitingly and Audrey, with a giggle, climbed into his lap.

Heather felt something twist in her gut. She wasn't sure if it was jealousy, nostalgia, or anger, but either way she knew she had to get out of the apartment. "No thanks. I'm meeting Mike and Rhi at the library – study session," she replied curtly.

She knew that her parents would buy it – why wouldn't they? – and even if they didn't, her friends would back up her story. That was their system. If they ever needed to be somewhere they didn't want the parentals knowing about, they covered for each other. It was honoring the code they'd long ago agreed upon: _Thou shalt not get caught and thou shalt not blow the whistle. Otherwise, consider thy self a total jerk_.

Heather was almost at the door when her dad stood up, and put a gentle but unyielding hand on her shoulder.

"Heather, honey… I'd like to talk to you for a minute," Peter said quietly.

She closed her eyes for a split second, biting back a retort. _You haven't wanted to talk to me since I was ten – did you finally come up with a topic? How about, 'hey I'm a superhero! And guess what? You are too!' ugh!_ "What is it Dad? I don't want to keep the guys waiting." She turned her head, but kept her body angled towards the door.

Peter shifted on his feet for a moment. "Heather, I know that we haven't had a lot of time to spend together for a while now, and I'm very sorry about that. I know, too, that you're growing up. You'll be seventeen by the end of the summer – it's a big deal for anyone. I wanted to let you know that…" he paused. "Well, that I recognize you're probably going through a lot of hard stuff right now."

Heather couldn't hold back a snort. "You have no idea," she muttered under her breath.

Peter didn't seem to hear her. "I just want you to know that I'm here for you, if you ever need someone to talk to. I also wanted to make you a promise."

She tilted her head slightly, curious despite herself.

"On your birthday, after you've done the whole party with your friends and all that jazz, we can do whatever you want, just the two of us. You'll have me for the whole day – even if the biggest story of the century hits the _Bugle_, I'm yours." He locked eyes with her for a long moment, "I promise."

She swallowed, trying to process that. "I… Thanks," she said softly. "Thanks, Dad. I'll hold you to that."

Peter smiled and kissed her forehead. "Of course. Now go have fun with your friends – study hard. You're a brilliant girl, Heather. I know that you can do anything you set your mind to. You always have."

Heather nodded quickly, wondering why her eyes were smarting, "Right. Thanks." She reached behind her and fumbled with the knob for a moment.

"I'll, uh, see you later," she looked behind him and smiled tightly at her mother and sister. "Bye Mom, bye Audrey," she sent her sister the sign for '_I love you'_.

Audrey waved and signed back. _Bye! I love you too!_

"Have a good time, Heather," MJ called as she shut the door.

Heather tried to shake herself of the emotions cluttering up her mind as she boarded the train. _Focus, Heather! You've got more important things to think about and an appointment to keep._

She leaned back in her seat and watched the digital readout that reported what station the train was at. After several stops and one change over, she got off and trotted down a flight of stairs, heading along the street for the old gym.

A long disused leotard was stuffed into her messenger bag, its weight bouncing against her hip. It was also heavily on her mind. There was so much that could go wrong with her plan, yet she knew she had to try, or she'd always wonder what could have happened. She had to see this through.

Once at the gym, she knocked on the front door, glancing up to see that Holldar had recently repainted the warehouse a bright blue and put up a new sign. In no time, she could see him walking to the front door, waving at her through the window built into the wood frame. He unlocked it, ushering her in.

Heather couldn't hide a smile, noting that Coach Holldar looked the same as the last time she'd seen him. The coach was tall, about 6'5", with salt and pepper hair and a wrestler's physique. Although when she'd first met him, she'd been terrified of the larger than life man, eventually she'd learned that the big guy was like a giant teddy bear. You just had to get passed the sometimes intense coaching techniques, and the barked orders, to see it.

"Parker, good to see you!" he quite literally bellowed, clapping Heather on the shoulder. To her immense surprise, the blow didn't knock off her feet – didn't even hurt really. Was that her spider DNA kicking in?

"Good to see you too, Coach," she replied, flicking a stray lock out of her eyesight. "I just need to use the locker rooms real quick and change."

He nodded, pointing down a side hallway. "Go right ahead – I'll set up some equipment for you to warm up on in the meantime."

Heather thanked him and followed the hallway to the showers and locker rooms. She set her bag on a wooden bench and unzipped it. She picked up the uniform and frowned in distaste. _How did I ever like this color? It's like My Little Pony pink – ugh._

Wrinkling her nose, she nevertheless pulled off her shirt and jeans and slipped into the leotard, switching her Nikes for a pair of skin colored beam shoes; they were like ballet slipper in appearance, and were commonly used by gymnasts for extra padding. Grabbing a hair tie and brush from her bag, she pulled her hair up, twisting it into a tight, makeshift bun.

Heather grimaced as she eyed herself in a mirror. _Note to self: if this superhero thing turns long term, I am never having a pink uniform – ever! I look like an Olympics Barbie._ Aside from the god awful color, she had to admit, she looked different compared to the last time she wore the uniform. She'd always thought of herself as skinny, her limbs long and sharp angled. Now however, instead of scrawny she was trim and athletic, the muscles more defined in her arms and legs, her stomach flat. She smiled as she realized that she in fact looked good.

Deciding she didn't have time to be totally narcissistic, she hurried back out to the main room. There she found the Coach setting up bench press weights for her. He noticed her entrance and waved her over.

"I thought we'd start small and work our way up – we have to know where you are now before we can improve," Coach explained as Heather laid down on the bench. "I'm starting you at one hundred."

She nodded and with Coach spotting her, lifted the weights off the rack and started pumping them up and down. She couldn't believe how light it felt – maybe he'd been fooling and had really only put seventy-five or fifty on? After pressing the weights about ten times, Holldar told her to put the bar back up. He slid another weight onto either side as Heather rotated her neck to loosen it up.

"Alright, try these," he said.

"Okay." Heather reached up and gripped the bar, lifting it up as if it were a feather. She pressed the weights fifteen times before Coach had her stop. She waited while Holldar put on two more weights on either side of the bar.

Without being told, Heather began lifting the weights again. After thirty, Coach again had her stop so he could add more weights. _I'm not even winded – what does that mean?_ She wondered silently.

The process went on until suddenly Coach Holldar halted her just after she'd done one hundred compressions with the latest weights. Miniscule beads of sweat had broken out on her forehead, but other than that, she didn't feel any strain on her body from the work out.

"Why are we stopping?" she asked, baffled.

Coach gave her a wry look, folding his arms across his massive chest. "I'm out of weights. You just pressed seven hundred pounds and you're not even out of breath. You sure you haven't been working out somewhere without telling me?" He raised an eyebrow, eyes twinkling in amusement.

Heather was suddenly grateful for the slight flush of her skin, as it hid her blush. "Uh, yeah, I'm sure. I guess they're just really working us hard in gym class these days at school," she bluffed, hoping she sounded convincing.

"Uh-huh," Coach merely shook his head. "Let's get you on a treadmill – if your arms are that strong, I want to see how far your legs will go."

Shrugging slightly, Heather got up and followed him to a running machine. He pressed a series of buttons and she began at a quick walk, which soon became a jog and then running. Remembering her brief stint in the track team, she soon fell into an internal rhythm. _Step, step, breathe. Step, step, breathe. Step, step, breathe,_ she thought.

As she ran, gradually the speed increased. She glanced down after awhile and noted the speed was moving rapidly towards twenty miles per hour, and she'd been going for almost two hours. The belt on the treadmill was even beginning to smoke. _This is starting to look suspicious, _she thought, panicking. _I'd better do something before Coach puts the pieces together._

Thinking fast, Heather wheezed heavily and purposefully lost her running pattern, decreasing speed rapidly. Coach immediately turned off the machine and Heather staggered off, collapsing on a bench. Chest heaving, she gingerly massaged her calves and thighs, as though the leg muscles were screaming in agony.

"You alright, Parker?" Coach asked, handing her a bottle of water.

Playing her part to a T, Heather nodded weakly, but gave no verbal reply. Huffing and puffing, she took several large gulps of water, even adding in a fake cough like she'd swallowed the wrong way.

Finally when she figured sufficient time had passed, she said breathily, "I'm okay, Coach."

"You shouldn't have pushed yourself so hard," Holldar reprimanded her sternly, a glint of concern in his eyes. "Geez, Parker, you're only human."

_You'd be surprised,_ Heather thought, amused. Outwardly, she appeared contrite. "Sorry Coach. Just didn't want to disappoint you. I had it there for awhile, but I guess I finally reached my limit at the end there."

Holldar clapped her on the shoulder. "That's alright, kid. Just remember – know your limits. Even Superman and Captain America aren't invincible."

"Right, Coach, sorry," she wiped some imaginary sweat from her face. "So, what now?" she asked, trying not to look eager. She'd almost 'asphyxiated' a few moments ago, after all.

Coach regarded her critically, not speaking for a few seconds. Heather felt a shiver of alarm run up her spine, terrified she'd overplayed her part. Finally he said, "How about you show me a routine, hmm? Let's see if you've still got that magic touch."

"Right," she held back a sigh of relief, "I can do that."

"Let's start on the balance beam, then the mat and maybe the parallel bars afterwards," Holldar suggested.

Heather nodded. "Can do, Coach."

For the next two hours, Heather pushed herself hard, trying to find her limits. She found quickly that her balance was better than it ever was before – practically perfect. Not only that, but her flexibility would've made a contortionist jealous. And while her strength was mostly in her arms, the muscles in her legs definitely weren't lacking. Coach was right – she wasn't Superman, or Wonder Woman. But _damn_ she was not too far off.

When her time slot was up, she went back to the lockers and pulled on her jeans and switched her balance beam shoes for the runners, but decided to keep the leotard on. She came back out to see Coach Holldar reviewing a chart he'd kept of her workout.

"So, what's the prognosis doc?" Heather questioned jokingly. "Am I ready for the Olympics?"

Holldar gave her a long, shrewd look. "Parker, you'd put the Olympics to shame. I don't know where all of that came from. Frankly, I'd be afraid to know." He shook his head, and Heather's stomach fell to her toes.

_Crap, he knows something's wrong! He'll call my parents, or maybe even the cops,_ she thought, trying to keep cool outwardly. "Really?" She managed aloud. "Come on, Coach, it wasn't _that _impressive," she refuted weakly.

"Parker if I still had a girl with your ability on my team, we'd have won nationals. Hell, the whole team would have gone to the summer Olympics in London and won every gold medal." Coach paused, considering Heather for a long moment.

"Listen," he said in a quieter, more subdued tone. "I know that what I saw in there wasn't necessarily…" he ran a hand through his hair, "average – for anyone. So whatever you're into now that's made you like this," he gestured at her form vaguely, "just be sure you know what you're getting into, and that it's not going to get yourself or anyone else hurt. I've seen what some of those new enhancing drugs can do to a body," he shook his head. "I don't want that to happen to you. Got it?"

Heather nodded slowly, suddenly realizing she'd been holding her breath. "Got it. But I'm not on anything, Coach, I swear," she added quickly.

Holldar held up a hand. "Don't know, and I don't want to know either way. This isn't normal, Heather," he gestured at the clip board with her numbers. "I know you're a good kid," he went on encouragingly, as her face fell a little. "Just promise me that whatever's going on, you'll make sure it's not hurting anyone – including yourself."

Heather swallowed. "I promise Coach. You won't," she hesitated. "You won't tell anyone about this, will you?" She bit her lip. _If Dad found out this way… _she left the thought unfinished.

Coach smiled slightly and crossed an x over his chest, approximately where his heart was. "I'll take it to my grave."

Heather smiled back, relieved. "Thanks."

He nodded. "Anything for one of my girls," he winked, and opened the door for her. "Say hi to your folks for me. And those siblings of yours – what were their names again? Uh, Adam and Harriet?"

She giggled as she stepped through the doorway. "Something like that. See you around, Coach."

He smiled and shut the door behind her.

Letting out another relieved breath, Heather headed back towards the subway station. She was almost to the stairs when three police cars, their sirens blasting and lights flashing, roared down the street. She paused and watched thoughtfully as they turned a corner, heading uptown. She glanced back at the dirty staircase, then again to where the black and whites had disappeared.

_Do I dare?_ She thought, biting her lip. Butterflies flew in frenzy through her stomach, excitement lighting up her nerve endings and making her spider sense twitch. _What if someone sees me? What if _he_ sees me? I don't even have a proper disguise!_

A few yards away across the street, a bell jangled over a doorway, catching her attention. The sign over the storefront read: _Costumes, Baubles and Bling!_

Heather blinked. "What are the odds?" she wondered under her breath, but decided not to question her luck.

Quickly checking for traffic, she rushed across the street and into the shop. It didn't take long to find what she wanted. A few minutes later, she walked out of the store and darted into a nearby alleyway. She slipped a white and pink full theater mask over her face, and pulled on a pair of cheap, thin white gloves to make sure she didn't leave any fingerprints.

_I'm not exactly a ninja here,_ she thought, pulling her jeans off and tossing them into her bag. _The pink is definitely killing the mood, but it'll have to do for now. At least I had the sense to pass on the cape the guy offered me – that would have just been ridiculous._

After first checking that no one was looking her way, she jumped onto the wall and began crawling up the brickwork to the roof. Reaching the top, she secured her messenger bag, backed up several paces, then jumped from roof to roof.

As the alleyways passed beneath her and she gained on the police cars, she couldn't help wondering what the big emergency was. _Is it a burglary? Car chase? Bank robbery? Domestic violence call? Ooh, that last one is probably a bit out of my expertise; I can hardly deal with my own parents fighting._

That thought only brought her mind back to the biggest dilemma of this whole harebrained scheme. Over all, her plan was pretty simple: become Spiderman's partner. Why?

One reason was payback. After all the crap she'd been through with her dad, it would only be poetic justice to pull something like this over him; to be able to say she'd managed to do good despite his mistakes.

For another, she had a responsibility now. Despite how much she hated to admit it, her dad was right on one thing: if you had the power to do the right thing, you also had the obligation. It didn't matter if she had no idea what she was doing, or that it was dangerous, or that she could potentially get herself hurt or killed. She couldn't ignore this duty.

And though she really didn't want to acknowledge it in the slightest, there was a third reason. It was also because she wanted to make Peter, well… proud. A part of her, however small, had always wondered if perhaps the reason her father was so often absent was because he didn't see her as worth his time. That she was nothing more than a failure, a mistake. She knew it wasn't rational, but still, the thought refused to be put to rest.

Heather gave her head a sharp shake, coming back to reality in time to leap over a ventilation duct and notice the police cars take a left. Unable to make the leap across the street, Heather held up her wrist and flicked it at the corner of a brownstone across the street. Giving it a tug, she swung down almost to the street level, narrowly avoided slamming into a taxi by raising her feet up in the nick of time.

"Phew!" she muttered, "Gotta work on my entry angles."

As her arc swung upwards once more she let go of her web and did a summersault, landing on another rooftop parallel to the route the police cars were taking. Resuming her former shadow work of rooftop running, her mind drifted again to the question of where on earth New York's Finest were headed. She got her answer soon enough as the police headed up into the Upper East Side and turned onto 5th Avenue.

_Maybe someone got shot in the park, or drove into the JKO Reservoir? _She considered, gracefully doing a handstand on a parapet before launching herself off of a roof and twisting through the air. She could hardly hold back a shout of excitement as the wind rushed past her during her freefall. Before she could become a splatter on the asphalt, she grabbed the arm of a traffic light, swinging around it twice like it was just another parallel bar. She jumped onto the top of a moving bus, as having the park on one side and sky scrapers on the other making it hard to use her webs.

She wondered for a moment if the people inside the bus worried about the thump she'd made when she landed, or if they just figured it was Spiderman or another Meta that hung around New York catching a ride. There were quite a few of them after all.

_Hmm, I wonder if I'll meet any of them… Spiderman is rumored to have worked with a lot of different heroes. The Fantastic Four, Iron Man, Captain America, the X-Men – though I'm not sure who would be more exciting to meet. THE Captain America, or the X-Men? After all, CA was practically the first Meta, and he's a war hero. Then again, the X-Men are so cool and they're made up of both adults, and kids like me… well not exactly like me, I don't think I have the x-gene after all._

She shook her head again, pressing a hand to her temple. _Whoa! What was that? Why do I keep going off on these weird mental tangents? Is this supposed to happen? I wonder if Dad has been doing monologues in his head all these years… If so, that's kind of creepy, not gonna lie._

The bus rumbled on down the street, but had to stop for a red light. Not wanting to lose the police cars that were still speeding up 5th Avenue, Heather checked a side street where a bus was just about to turn onto the street going north. Thinking quickly she backed up several paces until she reached the back of the roof, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Timing it just right she ran down the length of the vehicle like it was a runway, jumping up, turning one summersault and landing on the new bus with ease.

Heather watched intently as the police cars came to an abrupt halt and surrounded the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where already other officers had cordoned off the building and were keeping people away from the main doors. She wondered why someone would have attacked or robbed the museum, when she caught sight of large banners flapping lightly in the breeze between the sweeping columns of the front steps. They read, "New Exhibit: Come See the Royal Bavarian Jewel Collection! Two Weeks Only!"

_Well, that would be a good reason,_ she thought. Feeling the bus shift under her, she realized the driver was going to turn at the light and had to move fast or miss all the fun. She glanced at the high slanted roof of the museum thoughtfully. _I can make that,_ she figured.

Aiming her arm, she flicked her wrist and felt the webline stick to a corner of the rooftop. Leaping off the bus – and avoiding any cars with a lot more finesse than before – she swung over to the side of the building and grabbed the wall just under the eave. Poking her head out slightly, she was relieved to find that no one had seen her. How, she had no idea. She wasn't exactly dressed for stealth in the silly pink leotard and theater mask. But then again, this was New York. Weird stuff was just so normal around here that if anyone had noticed her, they probably figured she was a large balloon or a strange pink bird.

After once more making sure no one was looking, she crawled further up the wall and hauled herself onto the roof. Keeping to a half crouch, she darted across the concrete and tiles to the huge glass skylight, which she knew from numerous visits was located over the heart of the building. Peeking in, she could see multiple groups of officers and a handful of museum employees wandering around, or clustered in groups of two or three. She noticed in particular that most of the officers moved back and forth from the rear of the building, towards the park.

_That must be the direction that the exhibit was kept in,_ she decided. _Now, question is, do I leave now? Or do I try and get inside? Then again, what the hell I'm supposed to do once I got inside is anyone's guess. Ugh, what am I doing? I haven't got the faintest clue what all of this means!_

Just as she was resolving to leave and let it end at that for the day, her spider sense kicked up a notch. Panicking, she pulled out of her crouch by spinning on a heel and kicking out with her other leg. Her foot collided with something solid that grunted.

_Oh crap, I'm dead!_ Heather stood frozen in place. Her foot had slipped behind her, and her fists were stuck raised by her sides. Inadvertently, she looked ready to attack anything that came at her, but in reality she was petrified.

Because standing right in front of her – rubbing his abdomen slightly – was the man she knew so well and yet not at all. The one she'd both idolized and ignored; the one she couldn't stand and most admired.

Spiderman.


	10. Chapter 10

_Hello all! I'm back again with another chapter for you. I have to say sorry for the delays. I've been having some major writers block, plus I thought up another longer chapter idea for W4 (What a Web We Weave) and I've been working on that for a bit. Anyway, we've got new ideas planted, new discoveries made and a lot of questions that still need answering._

_Oh, and before I forget, I just want to state now that Heather is not going to reveal all to her parents anytime soon – so don't expect her to just walk into the living room one day and be all like, "hey, I have powers, and you guys suck 'cause ya didn't tell me". It's just not going to happen that way. They will find out, but it won't be until much further in the story – closer to the end actually. I know, I know, that sounds nuts. But I've been planning this all out for a long time now, and I don't plan on changing that part of the story._

_However, I should mention that I've really enjoyed each and every comment I've gotten on this story. All your encouragement, ideas and just plain 'good jobs' have really made this worthwhile :) So I just want to say, thanks guys. You're the reason that I write, and hearing from you makes all of this, not only enjoyable, but also possible. The muse lives on reviews, so please feed her, or she might be tempted to take a chomp out of me ;) Thanks again and enjoy!_

**The Legacy of a Hero**

**Chapter 10**

_And just when I'd thought things were going so well,_ Heather thought crabbily, _he decides to show up! Then again… didn't he mention something about pictures for the Bugle at the Met? Ooh, so that's how he does it: he fakes the press angle to have an excuse to be near crimes. I hate to admit it, but that is clever. Wonder how many other heroes work in the media or law enforcement to be closer to the action? Couldn't be that many, right? Ugh! FOCUS Heather!_

Still half crouched Heather narrowed her eyes behind the theater mask, wondering why Spiderman hadn't said a word so far. He seemed to just be studying her at the moment.

"You know," he said at length, making her pulse jump when her ears recognized the familiar baritone of his voice. It was a wonder no one else had figured it out, really. "Last I checked, Broadway is in that direction," he jerked his thumb towards Times Square's general area.

Heather glared, but unfortunately – or maybe not – he couldn't see it. "Oh ha ha, you're a comedian. Do you work birthday parties?" she retorted.

"Just saying," Spiderman shrugged and put his hands on his hips as he began circling her, like she was some strange piece of modern art he couldn't understand.

Heather loosened her stance and rose up to her full height, watching his progress from the corner of her eyes. "See something you like?" she asked coolly, mostly trying to cover up how panicked she was.

Spiderman paused and shot her a look. Or at least she assumed he did. With the full mask it was a little hard to tell. "Mostly I'm trying to figure out if you're the one who stole the jewels downstairs, and you're still here so you can gloat; or if you're some sort of crazy performer that got lost on the way to Cirque de Soleil. Frankly, I'm not sure I really want it to be either of those."

"What's wrong with the circus?" She asked, playing innocent while casually shifting her footing, aiming to make a fast getaway.

Spiderman shrugged. "Nothing really. Thought of joining one once, but that was a long time ago. Now are you going to tell me what you're doing here, Pinky, or am I going to have to guess?"

Heather felt herself bristle at the nickname 'pinky'. God, she knew it was a hideous color. There was no need to rub it in. She tried to keep her cool as she replied. "Just a concerned citizen passing through, wondering what the commotion about. And my name is _not_ 'pinky'," she added icily.

"Oh? And just what is your name?" Spiderman challenged, standing in front of her once more with his arms now crossed.

Heather's mind went blank.

_Aw hell, I never thought of a name! What is wrong with me? Okay, don't panic. Just think for a moment... Spiders! It should have something to do with spiders. Uh, Spider-Girl? Blech, no, I am so not coming off as some stupid fan girl. Madam Web? No, no, I think that name's taken by some weirdo villain. Spinneret? Okay, now I'm just getting desperate. Er… Wait! Those articles I read online – what did they say was the most deadly spider on earth?_

"Widow!" Heather blurted and then felt like smacking herself.

"You don't look old enough to even be on husband number one," Spiderman said wryly, clearly getting a kick out of her flustered state.

Heather was suddenly grateful for the mask over her face so he couldn't see her blush. "What I meant was," she clarified in a calmer tone, "My name is Black Widow."

Spiderman seemed to absorb that for a second, staring at her and tilting his head to the side as he clearly took in her runners, pink leotard, white gloves, pink and white mask, and her messenger bag. "Oh yeah, I can see the resemblance. In fact, I'm quaking in my boots right now from fear," he retorted, tone flat.

Heather felt herself flush scarlet again, for different reasons, but forced herself to calm down. "My other suit is still at the tailors – this was the backup," she said acidly.

"I see," Spiderman shook his head. "Look kid, I appreciate the support, but I don't need – nor want – groupies hanging around. You're just going to get hurt. So go home now, okay? I've got a whole city to look after – I don't need some kid too." He turned and started to walk away.

Suddenly all Heather could see was red. _How DARE he! I am not a freaking groupie! I'm his daughter for Green Lantern's sake! Does he not recognize my voice? Because I sure as hell know it's him under that damn mask, whether he knows – or cares apparently – about it, or not. For that matter, what does he mean he doesn't 'need some kid too'? I guess he was just playing super dad this morning, putting on a show for Mom and Audrey. Is that what he thinks our lives are? Something he can mess with then leave in pieces on the floor? Well, you know what, fine. Just fine. If that's the way he wants to play, then let the games begin._

"Hey!" Heather shouted after him.

He turned, his exasperation apparent in his movements, but she didn't give him time to burn her twice. With a flick of her wrist, she snapped a webline out onto his torso and tugged, yanking him off his feet and skittering across the museum's roof for a couple of feet. Without waiting a moment, Heather threw herself into a series of front flips, before launching up into the air, somersaulting three times and planted her feet firmly next to Spiderman's still prone form. Reaching down she grabbed the front of his costume and gave him a good shove down onto the concrete, pinning him there while getting right in his face.

"I don't know who the hell you think you are, or even who you think I am. Truthfully, I really don't give a damn. But let me tell you something right now. I am nobody's groupie or fan girl. I'm here because you need me, whether you want to acknowledge it or not." Heather released her hold and back-flipped to the edge of the parapet. She stood with her back to the open air, the traffic on 5th Avenue rushing beneath her.

Spiderman slowly got up, apparently unaccustomed to having someone take him down so quickly. For that matter, he wasn't used to encountering someone with powers so much like his own. He turned towards her, his tone angry now, "Who are you! What do you mean, I 'need you'?"

"Who am I?" Heather shrugged slightly. "No one important. Just your new partner – whether you want me around or not. You're not as young as you used to be," she pointed out, not sugar coating it anymore. "You can't keep going forever, not even Captain America is immortal. Someday, you'll need a replacement; someone who can carry on the mantle, and keep New York safe. That person is me."

"I don't even know who you are! How could I possibly work with you?" Spiderman demanded, taking a few steps closer.

"Who I am is not of any consequence right now," Heather replied, tone edgy and slightly mysterious. "I am simply Black Widow – another aspiring vigilante in a long line of new teen superheroes. I'm the future, Spiderman. The sooner you realize that, the better.

"And don't think too much on the identity thing. After all, I don't know who you are," she went on, lying through her teeth while trying to sound convincing. "So why should I dish? This just makes us even." She spread her hands out to the side, a gesture of what-are-you-going-to-do.

She looked down beneath her, noting that a small crowd had gathered, apparently having spotted the very pink person who might or might not be getting ready to jump. _Perfect._ "Well I'd love to stay and chat," she said, mock sorrowfully. "You know how it is though: things to do, people to see. But don't worry – I'll be back soon. See ya around, Boss." She gave a mock two-finger salute and freefell backwards off the rooftop.

Spiderman rushed over to the parapet, ready to dive after her, but was disconcerted to find that she'd caught herself with a webline, and was now swinging down one of the side streets. After another moment, she turned a corner and was gone from view. He looked down, fingering the sticky and frighteningly familiar webbing on his suit.

"Who was that girl?" he wondered aloud to himself.

'That girl', in this instance, was now making her way over to a construction area, putting as much distance as she could between herself and what she had privately deemed a total disaster. The site was deserted today, which was just fine for Heather. She needed a moment to breathe after the confrontation with her father. She set down in a shadowy corner behind the foreman's office, leaning wearily against the siding.

"What a nightmare," she muttered, rubbing her neck. "That was _so_ not how I wanted our first meeting to happen! What was I thinking anyway?" she went on aloud, trying to settle her nerves by pacing back and forth on the dusty concrete. She hoped that maybe hearing her own voice in her ears would also help. "Out of all the stupid things I've ever done, this really takes the cake! Why didn't I just go straight home? Or go to Rhi's place? Ugh!"

Frustrated, she ripped off the theater mask and threw it to the ground, pulling her auburn locks out of the hold of the bun in the process. Glaring at the mask, which now lay face up on the asphalt while staring back calmly, she let out an irritated grunt, gripping her head. "What am I _doing_?" she asked softly. "I can't even understand why my father does this."

She slowly released her grip and looked up through the slanting light of the skyscrapers above her, thinking. What _had_ been Peter Parker's motivator? What really started all of this? It couldn't have been as simple as he got powers and '_poof!'_ instant hero. Like her mom was fond of saying, 'there's a story behind everything and everyone'.

Frowning, Heather picked up the mask and shoved it into her bag along with the gloves. She pulled out her jeans and shirt and slipped them both back on over the leotard. Walking casually, she found a hole cut in the chain link fence just big enough to crawl through and rejoined the foot traffic of the city. Finding the nearest train station, she descended the stairs and studied the map lines, tracing the route into a familiar Queens' neighborhood with one finger.

_After all, _she reasoned while boarding the correct train, gripping the handrail in the crowded car. _My parents keep saying I need to get out to Aunt May's more often. Why not now?_

SMxBW

"I'm so glad you came to see me, Heather dear," Aunt May said for about the third time as she bustled through the kitchen.

Heather watched as her great-aunt pulled another tray of cookies from the oven, which she had been making for-the-charity-bake-sale-you-know-but-of-course-you-can-have-a-few-Heather-dear-I-insist, and put them on a cooling rack. She couldn't keep a smile off her face, taking a sip of milk and another bite of the chocolate chip cookie in her hand. "I'm glad I came too, Aunt May," she replied.

"I know how busy you are at school," Aunt May went on, "what with all those AP classes and other things you do, it's a wonder you have time for anything else." She chuckled. "Peter was the same way, you know. Always rushing around, I have no idea how he ever got any sleep, or managed to hold down his job."

The cookie Heather was eating suddenly didn't taste quite as good, and it definitely wasn't due to Aunt May's baking techniques. She put it down on the little green plate Aunt May had given her, and frowned in the general direction of the cat clock above the sink with the pendulum tail.

"Aunt May?"

"Hmm? Yes Heather dear?"

The red head half smiled. For the longest time, she'd thought her full name was Heather Dear May Parker. She'd realized somewhere around first grade that her aunt added the title to anyone she was especially fond of, which had made her a little sad for reasons she never could explain.

"I just wondered," the younger woman hesitated, "well, am I _really _that much like my dad? I mean," she added hurriedly. "What was he like at my age? He never talks about it." _If he talks to me at all, that is._ "All I really know is that Grandpa and Grandma Parker died in a plane crash when he was little, and he came to live here. Then, I think somewhere around his sophomore year, Uncle Ben died in a carjacking or something like that. And that's about it…" she trailed off uncertainly.

"Oh Heather dear," Aunt May sighed and sat down at the small kitchen table. She took off the oven mitts she'd been wearing and rubbed her wrinkled hands, her face appearing years older than a moment ago. "Your father has had a very hard life. Ben and I, well, we tried to give him the best childhood that we could but it wasn't always easy. He hardly remembered his parents, and I think that affected him somewhat. As he got older, things didn't get much better.

"He was bullied a lot in school; always such a small thing, without a lot of people to look out for him. Around your age though, he finally seemed to fill out, thank goodness, but it didn't stop the bullying. Of course he didn't talk about it – he wanted to handle it on his own and not worry Ben and I. He was always selfless in that way," the older lady smiled fondly to herself.

Heather kept quiet, wanting to hear as much as possible about this person. They couldn't be the same man as her father, could they? It didn't seem realistic. Her dad never got picked on – he was an important professor (well, assistant professor) at the university. Sure he had it hard at the Bugle, but other than that… who would pick on her dad?

"Then things just," Aunt May continued, shaking her head. "Things just got complicated from there. Peter was so quiet at the time. He'd been dating this lovely girl, Gwen Stacy, but she'd died in a horrible accident; Spiderman had tried to save her, but he couldn't. Ben and I were so worried about your father, so Ben gave Peter a ride to the library and they talked – I don't know much about it, Ben wanted to keep it between them. Later that night, Ben drove off to pick Peter back up. While he was waiting, a man came up and said he needed Ben's car. Of course your uncle refused and well…" she trailed off, blinking rapidly.

Heather slid her tanned hand over Aunt May's pale ones and squeezed reassuringly. May smiled gratefully, squeezing back.

"It's alright, Aunt May," Heather said quietly. "You don't have to tell me."

"You deserve to know, dear," her aunt replied simply. "At any rate, the thief took the car after shooting Ben. Your father was coming around the corner just after Ben was shot, and he saw him lying on the sidewalk. Ben died in Peter's arms." She took a deep breath, wiping away a stray tear from her cheek.

"Not long after, Peter graduated and moved out. He got an apartment with his best friend Harry Osborn in the city. A few months went by and things seemed to be going well. Then, I don't know, after a disaster of a thanksgiving at the boy's apartment, things spiraled out of control. Someone attacked the house here, then MJ was kidnapped by a mad man who called himself The Green Goblin, and then Harry's father, Norman, died under very strange circumstances. I never could find out how it happened, but afterwards Peter and Harry's relationship became extremely strained."

Heather had stiffened when Aunt May spoke of her mother being in danger, but it was nothing compared to the way her spider sense spiked at the names Green Goblin, Harry Osborn and Norman Osborn. She knew those names. Goblin of course was one of Spiderman's more infamous villains – but as far as she could remember, the insane rogue had died in a fight with Sandman, Spiderman and Venom, a few years before MJ and Peter got married. Osborn sounded very familiar too, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"Then," Aunt May went on, her voice drained. "Poor Harry, he had something of a nervous breakdown and was in a car accident. He died instantly. Peter was heartbroken. They'd had their differences, but Harry and Peter had been best friends all through high school. He was never really the same after that. He tried, but I'm afraid a part of him died with Harry that day and never came back. He seemed to get better after he married Mary Jane, and when you were born," she smiled and reached out to stroke her great-niece's cheek. "He was the happiest man in New York."

Heather frowned, even as her Aunt's soft fingers ran through a loose piece of her hair. "Then why does he never talk to me? Why is he never around anymore?" she wondered aloud.

May sighed, a bit sadly but with a gentle smile on her face. "Your father loves you, Heather dear; you, Harry, Audrey, and your mother. You're his whole world. But he has a lot of responsibilities, sweetheart. He works very hard to provide for his family, and sometimes he gets a little too caught up in work for his own good. But in the end, dear, he'd move heaven and earth for all three of you."

Heather returned the smile tentatively, "I know Aunt May, I know." But inside, she wasn't so sure.

Later while making her way home, Heather couldn't help thinking about what her aunt had told her and how it all fit together with what she knew already about her dad. She'd made quite a few connections as a result.

First off, the name Gwen Stacy had sounded familiar, and after a quick stop at the library, she figured out why. She was the daughter of the former police chief George Stacy, and she died during an attack by an unknown villain. According to reports, Gwen had been falling from a skyscraper when Spiderman tried to save her. The stories were a bit mixed on what exactly happened, but the general consensus was that Spiderman failed and Miss Stacy died as a result. The other reason her name was so familiar? Gwen was Audrey's middle name. What did that even mean? Did her mom know that her youngest daughter was named after her husband's old flame?

Something else she found out while at the library was why the name Osborn was ringing a bell. Norman Osborn had been a millionaire business tycoon who'd built the company Oscorp from the ground up. Shortly before his death, he'd been removed from the board of directors of Oscorp as the company was on the verge of bankruptcy. Only a few months later, the entire board was murdered at a festival the company was sponsoring by none other than the Green Goblin, who'd began his crime spree about the same time that Norman had been kicked off the board. Heather was no genius, but she wasn't an idiot either. The dots were easy enough to connect. Norman, for whatever reason, had become the Goblin and when said green villain disappeared off the radar, it was at the same time that Mr. Osborn died under mysterious circumstances.

Later, the Goblin returned to continue wreaking havoc, and Heather had a feeling that the craziness stayed inside the family, since Harry and Peter became distant around that time. Again, the Goblin was gone – this time completely – just before Harry Osborn was laid to rest beside his father. Had Peter really killed the Osborn's, or were both just horrible accidents that Spiderman had unfortunately been involved in? That was something she didn't know, and wasn't sure she wanted to.

Overall, the day had only left her with more questions than answers, and she couldn't help feeling frustrated. _My dad refused my help and treated me like a groupie; he might or might not have killed three people in the past; and my sister's named after his old girlfriend, while my brother is named after his dead best friend (both of whom he may or may not have murdered). Yeah, as if my life wasn't complicated enough._

While boarding the train back to Queens, she literally had to bite back a groan as something else hit her. _I have school tomorrow, and in addition to all the looks and whispers I'll be getting, I've still got several papers that are due by the morning._

She sighed and sat back in the hard plastic seat. _I wonder if other teen heroes have to go through this much of an emotional roller coaster? Maybe, if I ever meet them, I'll ask Robin, Kid Flash or Speedy how they deal with insane mentors and they're colorful pasts..._


	11. Chapter 11

_Hello all! Sorry it's been so long since I updated. I'm really struggling with this section of the story, not to mention balancing writing with work and school (sigh) it's a mess._

_At any rate, for those who don't know, I started my own vlog. It's where I talk about stuff that's happening with me, things that are annoying or interesting, and what I'm writing currently/what's coming up next. Look me up on youtube (under the username Rae Prite, so same as here). I could use the feedback :) Also, don't forget that the drawing contest is still open and looking for submissions – trust me the prize is worth the effort! :cough: bribe :cough, cough: ;-D_

_Anyway, let's get to the chapter, shall we? And let me say now, I know it's terrible. I hate this chapter, but I couldn't figure out another way to write this. Leave your comments in a review, pretty please – ideas would be appreciated for how to muddle through this stuff! Dx_

**The Legacy of a Hero**

**Chapter Eleven**

Riding the train to school the next morning, Heather couldn't help the sense of dread building in her stomach. _Rhi was right_, she realized. _Even with the whole weekend having transpired for something else equally as scandalous to happen, I'll still be the talk of the school._

And really, why not? When she thought it over, it would make perfect sense.

Here she was: an unassuming, hardly noticed junior, who so far had managed to only be in the spotlight maybe a handful of times. There was her short stint on the track team, which hadn't meant a thing to the other jocks as they'd still treated her like dirt. There were, of course, the couple of times like this past spring when she'd been in a school play or musical, but even getting lead parts wasn't much to brag about. Finally, last but least, were her many exploits of trying to find one decent guy to date, followed shortly by the bitter disappointment of not a single one working out. Josh had just been the latest flavor of the week.

She was unique for her lack of scandals – of course she'd be hot gossip.

_Crud,_ Heather had to resist the urge to bang her forehead against the side of the train. _This is going to suck._

She was disappointed though. Or maybe confused would be the correct term. When she walked through the doors, no one gave her a second glance, if they looked at her at all. There _were_ a bunch of students crowded in clusters lining the corridors, talking loudly or whispering breathlessly – depending on their click type – and it _did_ seem to be something more substantial than a substitute teacher in world history. But weirdly enough, none of it seemed to be about her.

Or so she'd thought.

"Did you hear?" Rhi inquired, wide eyed when she ran up to Heather's locker a few minutes later.

"Hear what?" Heather asked in return, glancing from the mini _Eagles_ poster in her locker to her best friend.

"There's a new teen superhero in the city!" Rhi said voice full of wonder and excitement.

Heather nearly dropped her AP calculus book in surprise. "Wait – what! How– I mean, where did you hear that?" Horror was filling her faster than water in the Titanic.

Rhianna took this as a cue and began spilling the whole story in her normal, rapid-fire manner. "It's, like, been all over the news – the papers, the internet, the TV, everything! I saw it this morning when my Dad was watching The Today Show. Of course, the _Bugle_ broke the story first – don't know how, they're always getting stuff wrong about superheroes – but anyway, yesterday at the Met there was this collection of jewels or something that got stolen. Spiderman was checking it out – I don't know if he caught the thieves or not, the news people never said, and I guess it really doesn't matter – when all of a sudden, some chick shows up in this weird outfit. I mean, yeah, it was a hideous shade of pink, even for my tastes, and the mask was funny too, but it was definitely the type of suit that superheroes wear."

At this point, Heather had begun feeling shaky and dizzyingly sick, slumping against the bank of lockers while staring at her feet. Rhi prattled on obliviously.

"Anyway, no one got a really good shot of her except one of the _Bugle's_ field photographers – don't know which one. Now granted, some people are saying that this girl's some kind of new villain, but I really don't think so. I mean, if she'd done anything wrong, like say, stolen the jewels? She totally wouldn't have stuck around, you know? Plus there was just something about her…"

Rhi trailed off for a second, appearing thoughtful. Finally, she just shook her head. "I don't know. She just didn't look like she was trying to do anything wrong. I think she was trying to help, but maybe Spiderman scared her off or something. Hey, you alright?" she asked suddenly, noting how pale her friend had become.

Heather forced herself to take a deep breath and swallow. "Yeah, I'm –"

Whatever excuse she might have been able to come up with, if she could've at all, proved unnecessary as the five minute bell rang out through the corridor.

"I'm fine, Rhi. I've got to get to class. I'll see you later," Heather spit out quickly, sprinting down the hallway to the safety of her first class of the day. Within a matter of seconds, Heather was lost from view and Rhi was left standing alone by the lockers.

"…Was it something I said?"

SMxBW

Heather had never felt so panicked in her life.

Of course, she'd figured at least _someone_ had seen her during the escapade at the Met yesterday. That was inevitable. But to make the paper? The national news networks, no less? And to put icing on the cake, the _Bugle _had been the one to break the story. Of all hero-biased papers to get snap shots of her! And she had a feeling who exactly had managed to get those photos.

As soon as she'd finished in her first class, she practically ran to her computer sciences course. Normally, she'd never consider breaking school rules and logging onto sites that weren't in the curriculum for the day's lesson.

Yes, she knew everyone did it, but she never had, too terrified of being caught and getting anything put in her permanent record… okay, so she was a nerd and far too concerned with her GPA, so sue her. But today, she was tossing the rulebook out the window and aiming a blow torch at it. This was far too important to worry about detention.

Checking carefully over her shoulder, though trying to be casual, Heather brought up the _Daily Bugle's_ website and scrolled through the headlines before finally coming to the article about the _'Rosy Vigilante'_ as she was being called.

The article was full of questions, assumptions and was biased as usual – no doubt having been especially reviewed and edited by one John Jonah Jameson – but the pictures were clear. The camera had got her as she'd swan dived off the museum building and a few of her speaking with Spiderman. As well as a few pictures of their little 'disagreement'.

_Thank God that I bought the stupid mask. I looked ridiculous but at least no one was able to identify me,_ Heather thought with a silent sigh. Then she frowned thoughtfully._ Hmm…I'll need to do something to get rid of the leotard permanently. I can't let anyone find it or they'll trace it back to me. I also hope that Coach won't say anything to anyone – he's got to have seen this by now. But he promised he wouldn't, and I trust him._

With a slightly more relaxed attitude, Heather skimmed the rest of the article and then closed down the website, deleting her history so no one would know immediately what she'd been doing. Granted, if any of the staff, teachers or – God forbid – the police, wanted to know what she'd been doing, they could always check the computer's hard drive, either at the PC or remotely. But she was hoping that for once, luck would be on her side and there would be no reason for anyone to do so.

Hopefully.

At lunch, she met up with Rhi and Mike at their usual table.

Mike, who was not much of a gossip, simply greeted her like normal and offered to trade his Oreo cookie pie with her for the slice of cheesecake on her tray. She agreed readily. If there was one thing she hated, it was cheesecake, but there had been nothing else left at the end of the lunch line.

Rhianna however wasn't quite as subdued. "What the heck happened to you earlier, anyway? You just bolted after I told you about the Rosy Vigilante," she demanded, throwing her arms out expressively, nearly nailing Mike with one hand and a passing student carrying a loaded tray with the other. Fortunately, both were able to dodge.

"Oh, that," Heather tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "That wasn't a big deal. I just felt sick all of a sudden. The milk in the fridge smelled sort of funky this morning, but I had some on my cereal anyway since I was in a hurry. I'm fine now, but I'm definitely having Harry pitch it out with the trash when I get home."

She took a bite of soggy pepperoni pizza and chewed for several seconds. It was a bit difficult to swallow though. She hated herself for the lies she was feeding her best friends. After all they'd been through together… the thought of deceiving them actually did make her stomach churn.

Rhi gave Heather one of the blonde's rare serious searching looks, before finally shrugging. "Anyway, you never told me what you thought of the new girl. Think she has any interesting powers?"

"She could be like Robin – or Artemis, Green Arrow's apprentice. No powers, just really talented," Mike observed mildly, playing with the lasagna on his plate.

Heather listened with half an ear, most of her mind focused on how she was going to be able to finish her little home ec project without her parents finding it. _Maybe I could…_

"So, what do you think, HM? Powers or no?" Rhi said cutting into her thoughts once more.

Heather took a moment to respond, considering her words carefully. "I think it's likely she has powers. I mean, I could be wrong, but the way she got around? It didn't look like she used jump lines or a grapple. I don't know though, I guess we'll have to see."

Rhi nodded and Mike shrugged. The conversation switched gears to something that didn't require as much of Heather's attention, allowing her mind to wander to the near catastrophe she inadvertently was able to avoid just by buying that silly mask.

_Huh, and I was so worried this morning that I would be the big gossip item today… well, in a way I was. But no one else has to know that._

SMxBW

When Heather got home later that day, she dashed to her room quickly and shut the door, though no one else was home yet. Digging through a pile of clothes purposefully put in the back corner of her closet, she pulled out the condemning leotard, along with the mask and gloves. She'd been mulling over how to get rid of the clothes all day, finally coming up with the most straightforward solution.

_Straightforward, but not exactly easy to come by,_ she thought absently, stuffing both into a brown paper bag she found in the kitchen. Taking only her wallet, keys, cell and the bag, she dashed back out of the apartment and down to the street level.

Walking a couple of blocks brought her to a seedier part of the neighborhood. It wasn't exactly the 'hood' per se, but her parents did often encourage her not to be there after dark… and sometimes not even during the day. However, considering their track record with her lately, Heather wasn't particularly in the mood to listen to all of their rules.

After a short bit of searching, she found what she wanted. Across the street was a shelter, closed at the moment for repairs, and in the alley next to it were half a dozen homeless men standing around three different trashcan fires. Admittedly, it wasn't her brightest idea to date, but what else could she do? If she just threw it away in a dumpster somewhere, inevitably it would be found, and the police could obtain DNA from it easily enough. If she threw it in the river, she would be A) littering (if she was going to do this whole superhero thing, she fully intended to go all the way), and B) it could wash up on shore somewhere else and again be found and recognized.

Heather glanced around before backing into the alley behind her. Once concealed in the shadows, she flipped up the hood of her jacket and climbed up the side of a building. Once on the roof, she took a few steps backwards and ran, leaping off the parapet like a springboard.

She felt a rush of adrenaline pump through her systems as gravity momentarily forgot about her. Then it realized someone was defying its laws and promptly took over. But fortunately, Heather had already reached the other side of the street, landing on the building next to the alley with the trashcan fires in a neat tuck and roll.

She paused for just a second. _You know, I'm beginning to see the appeal of that move. No wonder Tom Cruise keeps doing those Mission Impossible films. Alright, back to business._

Heather hurried over to the edge of the building and peered down into the alley. There was a fire right beneath her that two men were trying to warm themselves by. She took one last look at the bag in her hand, took careful aim and threw it down. The bag landed directly in the fire, the flames eagerly licking up the new fuel, while one of the bums began yelling about the sky falling and another turned to his neighbor and muttered something about government spy drones.

Heather shook her head. _While I'd love to stay and chat, I've got math homework, so I'll leave you guys to your conspiracy theories. See ya!_

SMxBW

"How was school today?" Mary Jane asked Heather later that night at dinner.

Heather thought that over for a second. "Fine," she finally said, "there's no bodily harm to the male populous on my part to be reported." She glanced across the table at her father's suspiciously empty chair as she forked a bite of salad.

"Good to hear," MJ replied dryly. Her eyes slid to Peter's chair as well, but quickly looked away again, checking instead on Audrey's progress on her peas.

Heather noted with a smirk that most of the green little vegetables were on the floor instead of the tray of her sister's high chair. Audrey, at the moment, looked more intent on figuring out how messy she could get eating spaghetti. The project seemed to be coming along nicely.

"Is no one going to ask how my day went?" Harry complained half heartedly, eyeing his baby sister's red sauce stained face with a wrinkled nose.

"Well, since you talked me into it," Heather began teasingly, "how was your day, dear? Would you like a tall glass of milk and some homemade blondies?"

Harry gave her an exasperated look. "You've been watching _Leave it to Beaver_ again, haven't you?"

"_Full House_, actually, but close enough," Heather shrugged.

"Tell me she's adopted, please?" Harry begged their mother.

MJ merely raised an eyebrow.

Harry sighed, dropping his head to the table for a moment. "Fine. Anyway, I got a B plus on that Shakespeare paper Heather helped me with."

Heather smiled. "Awesome. Now, what do you say?"

"Go me?"

"No, I mean to me."

"You're annoying and ugly?"

Heather slapped the back of Harry's head, making Audrey giggle. "No! For helping you with your paper, what do you say?"

Harry rubbed his occipital lobe and pouted, "Geez, just kidding. I was going to say thanks, there's no need to crack my skull open."

Heather flushed slightly. _Whoops. Gotta watch that._ "Sorry."

Audrey giggled. 'Again!' she signed, squishing more spaghetti between her fingers.

Harry narrowed his eyes. 'Annoying sprite,' he signed back.

Audrey stuck out her orange-ish tongue, 'Stinky brain.'

The only son of the Parker household growled and lifted his hands vindictively.

"Harry," MJ warned. "She's two. You're twelve. Get a grip."

Heather snickered as her brother sat back and huffed, crossing his arms. She patted his shoulder sympathetically. "Now you know what it's like trying to be the responsible older one."

He shot her a shrewd look. "'Responsible' and you, do not belong in the same sentence."

Heather frowned, "Troll," she muttered.

"Princess," he retorted, smirking now.

"Don't call me that!" she snapped. She glared at her half-eaten dinner, appetite suddenly gone.

Harry frowned and glanced uncertainly at his mom. "Um, I was only joking, HM."

There was a tense silence for a moment.

"May I be excused," Heather asked tightly.

MJ nodded. "Of course."

Heather stood up, dropping her crumpled napkin on her plate. "I'm going for a walk," she announced, grabbing her jacket and bag off a chair by the door. The door closed with a bang behind her.

"What did I say?" Harry asked, bewildered.

MJ shook her head, wiping sauce off Audrey's ear. "Don't worry about it, honey."


	12. Chapter 12

_She's baaacckk! Okay, so when we last left off, Heather stormed out of the apartment under odd circumstances. I said last chapter that I really didn't like it, but this one… I don't know, I've been trying to get it right for the last two weeks or so but nothing's really working. The ending sucks, that I'll say right now, but it's a crucial point in the story, so… well, what can you do, right? At any rate, let's get this over with. This is, chapter twelve!_

**The Legacy of a Hero**

**Chapter Twelve**

_Okay, so, maybe I overreacted,_ Heather thought, walking down the sidewalk towards the park she usually went to with Rhi and Mike. She'd stuffed her hands deep into her pockets, and the scowl on her face was deep enough that it was beginning to hurt.

_Could anyone really blame me? I know it's probably stupid, just… Dad used to call me that. Back when he cared. Ever since, other people have occasionally lobbed the name at me – with a lot less affection and whole lot more sneering. Them calling me 'Princess'… they might as well be calling me a failure, an idiot, a stupid little girl who can't do anything for herself. I'm so much better than that! Even without these powers, I've always been better than that opinion… or at least I'd like to think so. Maybe I'm not though. Maybe Spiderman, Dad, whichever, is right and I'm just a kid playing dress up. I couldn't even avoid the detection of the Bugle, and I almost got found out because of that stupid fight with Josh at school. What business do I have trying to save people, if I can't even save myself?_

Heather reached the park and took a seat under the tree, laying her arms across her bent knees. She stared up at the night sky, trying to perceive the stars through the golden haze of city lights and sighed. _Harry didn't mean anything by it, I know he didn't. Doesn't mean it stings any less._

"Heather? What are you doing here?" a voice asked.

Heather looked up and found Mike standing a few feet away. Behind him, Rhianna waved from inside the idling Oldsmobile.

"I, uh… nothing. Just came here to think," Heather replied slowly.

Mike gave her a searching look, and she hoped her face looked innocent enough. After a long moment, he glanced back at the car then to her again, "We're heading to the club. You wanna come?"

Heather's eyes slid to the dark, deserted street in the direction she'd walked from the apartment building. She sat quietly thinking, before turning back towards her friend and standing. "Yeah."

Mike nodded. "Cool. Come on."

Heather shoved her hands back into her jacket pockets as she followed him to the Oldsmobile. _I don't know what I was thinking. I just got so infatuated with the idea I could be some kind of hero, that I forgot something very important. I'll always just be another helpless princess. And princesses do love to party right? I guess it's time I put on the tiara._

SMxBW

When they got to the club, Rhi did her 'Rhi-zzle' act with the bouncer and got them inside in no time flat. Once they were in, she also pulled her strings to get an apple-tini for her and a beer for Mike.

"What do you want, Heather?" Rhi called, glancing her way.

"I don't care, just something strong," Heather glared in general at the pulsing lights over the dance floor. She'd taken off her jacket and left her bag in the car, leaving her in the same scoop neck, three-quarter sleeved ruby blouse with a hood she'd worn to school. With her dark expression, tightly crossed arms and her heavy though now slightly smudged make-up, she fit right in with the rest of the patrons.

Rhi lifted a manicured eyebrow but nodded, turning back to the bartender. "Irish Car Bomb for the redhead. And a bourbon and ginger ale as well – three fingers," she told him, slipping the guy several more bills than necessary.

The bartender smiled. "You got it. Tell your sister I say hi?"

Rhi winked. "Of course."

Taking a seat at the bar, Mike leaned close to his girlfriend's ear. "Which sister did he mean?"

Rhi shrugged. "Who knows, who cares? All that matters is my dear big sisters' reputations precede me, and I will never have to bother with fake ID's." She clinked her glass against his bottle and took a long sip.

A few moments later, the three glasses containing Heather's drinks were dropped onto the bar in front of her with simultaneous clinks. She closed her eyes for a moment and let out a sigh. _Just make it all go away – I want to forget this whole thing by tomorrow_. She quickly grabbed the shot and dropped it into the first glass to make the Irish Car Bomb. Without waiting a second, she lifted the drink and chugged it down before it started curdling. The drink gone, she slammed the glass down onto the counter. One hand gripped the edge of the bar tight as the alcohol burned down her throat and hit her stomach.

"You okay, Heather?" Rhi shouted over the techno beat pounding in their ears.

Heather nodded and swallowed thickly. "Yeah," she rasped, her words inaudible in all the tumult. Rhi seemed to understand though and let it go, turning back to Mike.

Breathing heavily, Heather let the drink settle a bit before sipping the ginger ale and bourbon. She was glad Rhi hadn't ordered a beer or wine-cooler for her. She'd learned from experience that liquor with beer or wine was a tricky combination. Trying to find the right balance was like walking on the edge of a knife.

After nursing her second drink for a while, Heather's attention strayed from the pattern in the granite bar to glossing over the dance floor dully. The lights pulsed different colors, strobe lights occasionally adding to the hypnotic kaleidoscope affect. People danced mindlessly on the floor – pushing, bumping, grinding, and jumping.

_Hard to believe it's over. Feels like it barely began. Who was I kidding though? _Heather leaned back on her stool against the bar, sipping from her drink as the DJ transitioned to "Titanium". _I'm no hero. Having a father who's a superhero doesn't mean jack. I'm just a kid. This is my life; doing homework, trying on boyfriends like their pairs of jeans, hanging out with Mike and Rhi, clubbing... It always has been. I was an idiot to think otherwise._

"Hey, we're going out on the floor. You coming?" Rhi shouted, pushing her empty glass away.

Heather was going to say no, but then she looked out again at the floor. She wasn't much of a dancer. For whatever reason though, the mosh pit of pounding bodies looked really appealing. She blamed it on the alcohol. "Yeah. I'm coming," she called back, finishing her drink in two large gulps.

Rhianna grinned. "Cool!" She grabbed her friend's hand as well as her boyfriend's and dragged them through the crowd to the dance floor. Once in the middle, she immediately dropped Heather's hand and pulled Mike close.

Heather stood awkwardly for a moment, feeling like a buoy in the middle of a hurricane. The song changed again. Now "Scream and Shout" blasted from the speakers. She closed her eyes and let the music wash over her, eventually finding the rhythm and letting her body follow it.

She couldn't be sure how much time passed. The DJ switched tracks a couple of times, but other than that, she really couldn't tell how long she'd been swaying with the rest of the crowd. It was selfish, she knew, to be staying here and ignoring the rest of the world. Childish, to be pretending that her problems were gone and nothing else mattered but this moment in time. Honestly, she didn't care. She didn't think about it, or anything else. She just moved.

The repose was shattered when a large, sweaty hand grabbed her arm. Hot breath crawled across her neck as a voice called into her ear, "Hey baby, you wanna dance?"

Heather's eyes shot open, then narrowed dangerously. The guy clutching her arm was somewhere in his mid-twenties, with greasy black hair, dark eyes that were almost black, and heavily tattooed, muscled arms.

"Not in a million years," Heather snapped, yanking her arm out of his grasp easily.

The guy didn't look like a pushover by any means, so the fact that a relatively small teenage girl was able to escape him so quickly came as a surprise. "Hey," he called as Heather tried to push her way out of the crowd. "Where you goin'? We haven't gotten to know each other yet!"

Heather searched the club desperately. Where were Mike and Rhianna? How had they gotten separated? She couldn't have been in her trance for that long, right? Had they left her? It seemed unlikely, but still, no matter which way she turned she couldn't see them.

"Oh baby girl…" a familiar voice crooned.

Heather turned to find that the creep from before had followed her all the way to where the private booths and back door was. Her fists shook as she pushed back her rising anger and panic. "I told you to get lost!" she snapped.

"Now why would I do that?" the guy sneered, eyeing her form hungrily. "When we're just getting to know each other. I'm Stan, by the way. And you are?"

"Back off, or I'll call security," Heather growled, moving slowly towards the exit behind her.

"That's an awful long name for such a pretty girl. How about I guess it?" Stan grinned, "Ashley? No? Veronica? Nah. Stacy?"

Despite the circumstances, Heather couldn't help the errant thought that crossed her mind, _Stacy? Seriously, what is this? The nineties?_ She kept backing up, but Stan only continued his pursuit. _I obviously can't lose him in the club… but maybe I can ditch him in the alley. It's worth a shot at least._

"How about…" Heather suggested sarcastically, "See ya, loser!" She turned and sprinted for the exit, managing to keep ahead of Stan well enough by grabbing a table and chair, and overturning it in front of him.

Once outside, she turned and darted down the dark, wet alleyway towards the street. Behind her, she could hear Stan's heavy breathing and cursing getting louder. He may have been a tool, but he was a fast tool. Even though she loathed the idea after her resolution earlier tonight, she knew her best chance was to use her powers.

At the corner, she turned left and ran up the deserted street, splashing through murky puddles and dodging dumpsters and trash cans, while still trying to maintain a normal _human_ top speed. After all, she may want to get away from this jerk, but not at the price of being discovered as a… well, whatever she was.

The thought had actually been nagging at her for a while – was she a Meta? Mutate? Mutant? Just another freak? Presently though, she was more concerned about staying alive and hanging onto her v-card. The debate could wait until she was safely away from the scumbag.

Turning another corner and out of sight of her pursuer, she leapt onto the wall of a building and climbed quickly to the roof. At the top, she flipped over the parapet then crouched down and collapsed against it, as much hiding as trying to calm her nerves. She hadn't actually exerted enough energy to really be winded – it was mostly fear and adrenaline that had left her breathless.

She waited anxiously and soon heard Stan's footsteps below her, searching for her while cussing loudly and repeatedly. Eventually, his footsteps stopped and she could somehow tell that he was standing directly below her in the alley. Though there was no way he could hear her from four or five floors up, she nevertheless held her breath and waited.

A couple of minutes passed in silence.

Heather knew this because she kept checking the time on her cell phone, waiting for Stan to get bored and leave already. She couldn't leave ahead of him and risk him seeing her jump across rooftops. He didn't seem like the smartest bulb in the pack, yet even an idiot would be able to tell his friends about the weirdo girl with superpowers, and then they would tell their idiot friends who would probably tell someone else.

She did not need that kind of scrutiny when she had just decided to give up this ridiculous hero idea.

After the fortieth time of checking her phone, and being annoyed that she still didn't have signal, that tingling feeling at the base of her skull cranked up again. Curious despite herself, she peered over the parapet into the alley below. At the corner of the alley and a side road, a small sedan pulled up under the flickering light of a street lamp and the passenger window rolled down.

"Stan! That you?" someone asked.

Stan wandered over to the car, still looking steamed. "Yeah, it's me. Whaddya want?"

"Where's the chick? The one you picked out in the club?" a second person, this one behind the wheel, questioned. Heather craned her neck and could see there were actually three people in the car, and judging by the shape of their shadows they were all male.

"Got away," Stan grumbled. "Fast little bitch. Too bad, she looked like she might give me a bit of fight," he grinned suddenly. "You know I like it better when it's more of a challenge."

The three men guffawed loudly and Heather shivered.

"How about you three? Any luck?" Stan leaned against the passenger door.

"Not for me. Couldn't get a bite from any dame," the man in the back seat said.

The driver spoke up, "Same. But Ricky here scored big! The girl's in the trunk now and she is a knock out – figuratively _and_ literally." He clapped the man beside him on the shoulder. "We'll get some fun out of tonight yet. You in?"

Stan smirked nastily. "Oh I'm in. Move over, Pete! And step on it, Dave!" he opened the back door and climbed in. The car sped off into the darkening night.

Heather swallowed thickly, her face deathly white. _Oh my god, they're going to – _she couldn't even finish the thought. _I have to call the police! I have to tell them, tell them…_ tell them what? That she'd been chased out of a club where she wasn't supposed to be in the first place by a guy named Stan, had climbed to a rooftop to escape him and had overheard a bunch of men talking about a girl knocked out in the trunk of their car that they were most definitely going to rape?

She dropped her head in her hands. _They'll never believe me. Not in a million years. Oh sweet Scarlet Witch, what do I do? I can't just go back to the club like nothing happened! That girl – what if it's Rhi in the trunk? Or someone else I know? Even if it's not, I can't stand around and do nothing._

Taking a deep breath, Heather stood up and pulled her emotions together as best as she could. She stepped back to the edge of the parapet and pushed off, running across the roof towards the next building. She hurdled and sprinted as hard as she could, ignoring human boundaries and letting the length of her limbs help rather than hinder her. She'd covered several blocks heading south when she spotted the sedan at a changing light. The car turned left, and so did she, leaping across the intervening space like she was jumping a small puddle.

The car drove at an easy pace, the driver obviously in no hurry, letting Heather pull back slightly and collect her thoughts. She didn't want to go into this situation blind, after all. Finally, the car parked in front of a dilapidated brown stone that had obviously been vacated for quite some time.

Heather watched from the shadows of the roof above them as the four men, Pete, Dave, Stan and Ricky, got out of the car. Stan and Pete went to unlock the front door while Ricky and Dave went to the trunk. They opened the rear and pulled a rolled up blanket with a suspiciously human form from the compartment. While the driver Dave slammed the lid down, Ricky slung the girl across his shoulder. The foursome then preceded into the building.

Heather backed away from the edge, gripping her head as the gravity of the situation descended upon her. "Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap…" she hissed, squeezing her eyes shut tight.

_Get a grip, Parker! You don't have time to panic. That girl, whoever she is, needs your help. So quit being a crybaby and get in there! _She took a couple of deep, cleansing breaths.

"Right. Okay, okay, I can do this. I can do this!" Slowly she released her hold and stood up, glancing around to try and find an entrance from the roof into the old building. A few feet behind her was a doorway. She ran over and tried the handle. Locked. _Naturally,_ she thought, rolling her eyes before narrowing her gaze. _Alright, let's test just how affective enhanced strength really is._

She grounded her footing, then lifted a leg and kicked viciously near the handle. The ancient wood crunched slightly, but held. Frowning, she gave it another harsh blow. The door dented in more, wood splinters fracturing off in several directions, yet the stubborn entrance stayed intact.

Heather backed up a few paces. _No more playing nice._ With a roundhouse kick and a furious grunt, the door gave way and popped off the hinges. Grabbing it, she pulled it free completely from the frame and tossed it behind her. Her way clear, she ran down the nearly pitch black staircase until she came to the top floor of the four story building. Here, the door was missing completely, though she couldn't begin to guess why. Stepping through, she squinted in the dark hallways for her targets. They didn't seem to be anywhere around, which meant they were probably holed up somewhere closer to the ground floor.

She held in a groan.

There was no time to climb all those stairs and search every floor! She began looking around again for an alternative route, taking tentative steps on the worn out wooden floor. As she searched the hallway, she passed by a broken dirty mirror propped against the wall. In the soft light filtering weakly through the grimy windows, her reflection blinked back, her naked face pale, grimy and coated in a sheen of sweat.

_I can't let them see my face,_ she fingered her cheek and bit her lip, the mirror copying every move. As her hand moved down from her face, her thumb brushed the gathering of the shirt's hood at her shoulders. The mirror smirked at her as she grabbed the fabric and pulled it up over her head, obscuring her features in shadows. _Perfect._

A blood curdling scream, followed by raucous laughter, broke the silence.

_I don't have much time left – I may already be too late._ Heather scanned the walls and floors, eyes finally falling on a grate in the corner of the floor leading to the air vents. _Bingo._

She pried the grate off easily and threw it aside. It clattered noisily before finally coming to a stop against the opposite wall. By this point, she'd dropped into the ventilation system and began crawling towards what she hoped was a quick way down through the building.

_I may not be a hero, but I'm going to do what's right, no matter what._

_AN: So, do any of you read the N52 Teen Titan comics (or any N52 comics, period)? If so, am I the only one annoyed with how jumpy the stories feel? I'm only on issue 9, but I'm about ready to call it quits and focus my attention on the other comics I read: Supurbia (the pencils, plus Grace Randolph's writing are wickedly addicting), Batman & Robin (Damian and Dick have one of the coolest bromances ever!), Nightwing(hey, it's Dick, of course I love it :D), and Batman Beyond (Terry may not be Dick, but I think he's a close second lol). Yeah, yeah, I read a LOT of B's comics *blush* can't help it, they're too good! I'm toying with the idea of reading Batman Inc. (even if they did kill my favorite little grumpy pants, Damian D:), and Red Hood and the Outlaws as well, but… oh good lord, Starfire! What kind of sick, fanboy sexy-fantasy outfit did they put you in?! What comics/superhero shows are you reading/watching right now? Any recommendations? Leave them in a comment, or PM me! B-)_


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